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FRED  LOCKLEY 

RARE  WESTERN  BOOKS 

4227  S.  E.  Stark  St. 
PORTLAND.  ORE. 


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THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 


"  Hal  still  stood  staring  at  the  photograph,  his  face  tense 

and  white."        Frontispiece.    See  p.  239 


THE 

LAND  CLAIMERS 

BY 

JOHN   FLEMING   WILSON 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 
ARTHUR  E.  BECHER 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND   COMPANY 

1911 


Copyright^  1911^ 
By  Little,  Brown,  and  Company. 


AU  rights  reserved 
Published  April,  1911 


•  ••'••    • 

•  •  •«  •  •    • 


THE   UNIVERSITY   PRESS,    CAMBRIDGE,   U.S. A. 


To 

United  States  Senatoe 

GEORGE   E.   CHAMBERLAIN 

OF  OREGON 


ivil4S886 


Foreword:  To  My  Wife 

WE  TE  emerged  from  the  old  Ellsworth  Trail  upon 
the  windy  uplands  of  the  Coast  for  the  last  time. 
The  forest  has  closed  over  the  life  that  we  used  to  know 
along  the  Siletz,  and  our  friends  have  all  "  packed  out." 
But  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  the  Land  Claimers 
—  scattered  for  ever  —  remember  the  days  when  the  pack 
trains  made  the  trail  from  the  Agency  to  Otter  Rock, 
when  the  settler's  ax  echoed  down  the  canyons.  Now  the 
forest  ranger,  from  the  high  ridges,  looks  down  on  deserted 
cabins  and  shrinking  clearings,  and  knows  each  place  by 
its  old  name,  but  does  not  know,  nor  care,  where  the  settler 
has  gone.  So  I  have  brought  some  of  us  back,  once  more, 
in  this  book,  to  live  over  again  for  a  little  the  life  we 
knew  along  the  Siletz  River. 

San  Francisco,  July  1,  1910. 


List  of  Illustrations 

"  Hal  still  stood  staring  at  the  photograph,  his  face 

tense  and  white  " Frontispiece 

"  A  moment  later  he  was  shaking  Sally  warmly  by 

the  hand " Page    90 

" '  You  *re  Mr.  Spencer's  sister,  are  n't  you  ? '  Sally 

said" "189 

"  As  he  wrote  in  his  name  and  the  date,  Spencer 

stood  over  him,  breathing  heavily "     .     .     .     .     "274 


The  Land  Claimers 


CHAPTER  I 

TWO  men,  heavily  laden,  emerged  from  the  dense 
timber  along  the  creek  bottom  of  a  tributary  of 
the  Siletz  River,  scrambled  up  a  declivity  studded  with 
half-burnt  stumps,  and  came  to  a  halt  before  a  small 
cabin  built  of  shakes.  The  taller  and  elder  of  the  two 
twisted  his  pack  from  his  shoulders  and  let  it  fall.  He 
took  off  his  felt  hat  to  wipe  his  forehead. 

"This  is  your  claim,"  he  announced  curtly. 

His  companion  awkwardly  disengaged  himself  from  a 
knapsack,  a  roll  of  blankets,  and  a  small  sack  of  flour. 
Then  he  stretched  his  arms  with  a  quick,  springy  move- 
ment that  caught  the  quizzical  eye  of  his  guide. 

"It  isn't  much  fun  packing  along  that  trail,"  the 
elder  man  admitted.  "But  you  see  IVe  got  every- 
thing fixed  up  pretty  nice  for  you.  This  is  one  of  the 
best  timbered  claims  in  the  whole  Siletz,  and  I  tell 
you  right  now,  you're  in  luck." 

The  younger  man's  dark  eyes  scanned  the  ragged  clear- 
ing, the  flimsy  cabin,  and  came  back  to  rest  on  his  guide. 


1  .  ...... T.ftE-LAND  CLAIMERS 

''I* guess  you  know  more  about  it  than  I  do,"  he  said 
quietly.  "Anyways,  I  pays  my  money.  I  ain't  much  on 
these  trails.  Sidewalk  with  a  bar  on  the  corner  is  more 
my  style.  But  I  ain't  no  quitter."  Under  the  faintly 
amused  gaze  of  the  other  he  pulled  out  a  stained  wallet 
and  proceeded  to  count  down  upon  a  convenient  stump 
a  number  of  bills.  "There's  my  eight  hundred  bucks," 
he  said.  "Five  hundred  for  Old  Man  Peterson's  relin- 
quishment and  three  hundred  for  your  fee.  Just  kindly 
gimme  a  paper  with  your  own  relink  —  relinquishment." 

"Here's  the  bill  of  sale,"  was  the  unsmiling  response. 
"The  relinquishment  has  been  made  in  Portland  where 
you  filed.  That's  all  right.  You  buy  the  improvements 
and  you're  the  owner  of  this  claim.  All  you've  got  to  do 
is  live  here  for  the  next  fourteen  months;  then  you  can 
commute  for  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  an  acre  and  be  worth 
twenty  thousand  dollars.  There's  a  good  twelve  million 
feet  of  fine  timber  in  this  hundred  and  sixty." 

He  drew  a  signed  paper  from  his  pocket,  handed  it  to 
the  younger  man  and  stowed  away  the  bills. 

"We  don't  often  see  these  greenbacks  in  Oregon," 
he  remarked.   "We  use  gold,  Mr.  Spencer." 

"Paper  seems  to  be  good,"  Spencer  retorted,  in  a 
slightly  humorous  tone. 

"It  is,"  was  the  response.  "I'll  be  getting  along,  Mr. 
Spencer.     You  have  everything  you  need?     Remember 


THE   LAND  CLAIMERS  3 

the  trail?  Half  a  mile  due  south,  quarter  of  a  mile  west, 
and  then  you  strike  the  main  trail  to  the  Reservation, 
not  a  hundred  yards  from  McCarthy's.  He's  your  next 
neighbor.  Not  much  help,  I  'm  sorry  to  say.  But  then, 
think  of  the  money  you'll  be  worth  two  years  from  now." 
He  held  out  his  hand. 

Spencer  grasped  it  heartily.  "You  done  me  a  good 
turn,"  he  said  warmly.  "  If  Sim  Spencer  kin  ever  do  you 
the  same,  jest  call."  His  weedy  figure  expanded  a  little. 
"I  ain't  no  quitter,"  he  said,  with  a  trace  of  boastfulness. 
"Nobody  ever  said  that.    Jest  call  around." 

"Thank  you,"  the  locator  replied.  "Should  I  ever 
require  a  good  turn  at  your  hands,  Mr.  Spencer,  I  shall 
take  pleasure  in  calling.  But  don't  forget  that  you 
must  n't  leave  your  claim  for  a  day.  And  if  you  go  out 
of  the  county,  you'll  likely  lose  it  entirely.    Good-by." 

Spencer  watched  him  till  he  disappeared  down  into  the 
creek  bottom.  Then  he  wheeled  round  and  entered  the 
cabin.  His  eyes  quickly  took  it  in,  from  the  rusty  sheet- 
iron  stove  at  the  farther  end  to  the  mouldy  straw  that 
marked  the  bed  built  against  the  wall.  The  floor  was  of 
rudely  shaped  logs,  and  bright  green  grass  grew  in  the 
chinks.  A  gunny-sack  served  to  close  the  window  open- 
ing. Overhead  the  rafter  poles  dripped  damp  moss.  A 
few  bent  tin  dishes  hung  on  pegs  by  the  door.  It  was 
desolation.    "Gee!"  the  new  owner  muttered  to  himself. 


4  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

"But  ain't  it  a  mess!"  He  took  off  his  heavy  mackinaw 
coat,  displaying  to  an  astonished  woodpecker  a  red  and 
blue  striped  cotton  shirt  with  immense  cuffs.  He  then 
rolled  a  cigarette,  lit  it,  and  went  outside  where  he  sat  on 
a  stump.  He  puffed  a  moment,  choked,  and  was  doubled 
up  in  a  violent  fit  of  coughing  that  left  him  exhausted. 
He  resumed  his  seat  on  the  stump  and  turned  his  blood- 
shot eyes  to  the  huge  crest  of  timber  on  the  rise  beyond. 
In  his  gaze  an  observer  other  than  the  woodpecker  might 
have  seen  a  pleading  look  that  did  not  seem  natural  on 
his  thin  and  determined  face.  "I'll  beat  the  croaker 
yet,"  he  whispered  huskily. 

The  cold  sun  that  illumined  the  tops  of  the  firs  retired 
slowly.  The  dusk  of  the  forest  deepened.  A  breeze  that 
had  swept  the  trees  with  leisurely  breath  died,  and  through 
the  silence  broke  the  sound  of  trickling  waters  and  the 
whisper  of  the  creek  running  amid  the  salmon  brush. 
Spencer  stared  out  into  the  new  scene  with  grave  eyes. 
He  listened  for  familiar  sounds,  for  one  homely  noise,  but 
none  came  to  his  ear.  The  tremendous  shadow  of  the 
Siletz  darkened  over  him.  He  shivered  and  went  about 
the  task  of  carrying  his  supplies  into  the  ruinous  cabin. 
At  dark  he  managed  to  start  a  fire  in  the  stove  and  lit  a 
lantern  he  had  brought  with  him.  It  threw  strange  shapes 
across  the  irregular  interior  and  he  put  it  out.  In  the 
faint  light  given  by  the  fire  through  the  many  crevices 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  5 

in  the  stove,  the  new  homesteader  managed  to  open  his 
blankets  up  and  spread  them  on  the  bed,  whence  he  flung 
the  wet  straw.  He  smoked  another  cigarette,  coughed 
himself  warm  and  lay  down.  "I'll  start  in  to-morrow," 
he  said  aloud  to  the  dreary  cabin. 

Two  days  later  a  young  woman  tramped  through  the 
mud  of  the  creek  and  ascended  towards  the  cabin.  Her 
heavy  leather  boots  she  wore  easily,  though  occasionally 
she  bent  over  to  tuck  in  a  lacing  that  had  caught  in  the 
brush.  Each  time  that  she  did  this  a  creel  suspended 
over  her  shoulders  slipped  down  in  front  and  had  to  be 
thrown  back.  For  this  reason  she  did  not  notice  that 
she  was  watched  till  just  in  front  of  the  shack  she  straight- 
ened up,  to  meet  the  admiring  glance  of  an  utter  stranger. 
She  displayed  no  embarrassment.  "My  sakes!"  she 
exclaimed.  "You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  Old  Man  Peter- 
son's claim  has  been  jumped  again!" 

Mr.  Spencer,  for  he  it  was  who  was  gazing  at  this  un- 
expected visitor,  flushed.  "This  is  my  claim,"  he  said 
tartly. 

The  young  woman  took  off  the  corduroy  cap  that 
tried  to  cover  the  profusion  of  her  hair  and  fanned  herself 
with  it.  "My!"  she  mocked  him.  "One  would  s'pose 
you  were  afraid  of  me  taking  it  away  from  you." 

Sim  Spencer,  finding  no  words  to  his  liking,  sniffed. 
"  I  Ve  heard  there  were  some  tenderf eet  wandering  around 


6  THELANDCLAIMERS 

this  reservation,"  the  girl  went  on,  scanning  the  dreary 
clearing,  "  but  I  declare  I  did  n't  know  I  would  see  one 
squatting  right  on  Old  Man  Peterson's  place."  She 
laughed,  somewhat  self-consciously. 

"This  ain't  Peterson's  place,"  he  replied,  suspiciously. 
"  I  got  a  relink  —  a  relinquishment  on  it." 

"Are  you  figuring  on  selUng  it  again?"  she  demanded, 
with  sudden  alertness. 

"For  twenty  thousand  dollars,"  was  the  reply. 

She  broke  into  soft  laughter.  "I'll  bet  I  know  who 
you  are,"  she  said,  when  she  could  control  herself.  "I'll 
bet  you  a  bucket  of  huckleberries  that  Lim  White  located 
you.    Lim  must  be  hard  up." 

His  eyes  met  hers  sullenly.  "  Am  I  talkin'  to  a  home- 
steader? "  he  asked  slowly.     • 

I  He  did  not  know  it,  but  his  question  touched  a  chord 
that  instantly  responded.  "I  ain't  laughing  at  you," 
she  said  repentantly.  "  I  'm  Sally  McCarthy.  Dad  is  the 
oldest  homesteader  in  the  Siletz." 

"Mr.  White  told  me  your  father  was  my  neighbor,"  he 
said. 

"Then  it  was  Lim  White,"  she  announced.  "Lim  must 
be  awful  hard  up."  She  threw  him  a  brief  glance.  "  When 
Lim's  right  up  against  it  he  always  locates  somebody  on 
Old  Man  Peterson's  place." 

Sim  Spencer  would  have  admitted  that  he  was  no 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  7 

chicken.  His  dark  eyes  brightened  as  he  rolled  a  cigarette 
with  shaking  fingers.  "He's  located  quite  a  few,  I  make 
out?"  he  suggested. 

She  counted  on  her  fingers.  "There  was  Brown  first; 
then  Higginson  and  then  Curly  Matt  and  then  a  girl 
from  the  East  somewhere  and  then  old  Page.  He  died 
here.  Then  Lim  let  up  a  while.  I  guess  youVe  about 
Number  Six,  mister." 

The  cigarette  was  finished,  and  he  lit  a  match  and  held 
it  to  the  tobacco.  "What's  the  matter  with  this  claim?" 
he  asked  quietly. 

"No  timber,"  she  replied  succinctly. 

He  put  the  cigarette  between  his  lips,  inhaled  the  smoke 
and  blew  it  out  in  rings.    "No  good  at  all?" 

"Not  worth  a  cent,*'  she  answered.  "You  know  Lim 
always  picks  a  fellow  that  is  green  and  won't  come  back 
at  him.  I  guess  Lim 's  had  as  much  as  a  couple  of  thousand 
dollars  out  of  this  old  place.  But  he  always  gets  some- 
body that  don't  kick  too  hard.  They're  old  or  sick  or  a 
woman  or  they  die.  He  says  you  Easterners  have  money 
to  burn,  anyway.  Lim  sort  of  claims  that  he's  a  pubUc 
philan^ropist  to  take  it  away  from  you." 

Spencer  stared  upward  at  the  dark  trees  beyond  the 
creek.  The  cigarette  depended  limply  from  the  fingers 
of  his  thin  hand.  Far  above  him  a  white  cloud  swam  out 
of  the  invisible  and  cast  its  shadow  across  the  desolate 


8  THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

patch  of  clearing.  In  that  shadow  gathered  the  chill  of 
the  sunless  timber,  the  great,  still  cold  of  the  fir  forest. 
The  girl  drew  her  booted  feet  up  under  her  short  skirt, 
for  she  had  sat  down  on  a  stump,  and  put  on  her  cap. 
She  seemed  ready  to  leave,  but  at  a  loss  for  a  final  word. 
She  looked  curiously  over  the  weazened  man  before  her. 
A  slight,  involuntary  contempt  curled  her  lip.  It  vanished 
when  his  pallid  face  suddenly  flushed,  and  his  eyes  opened 
wide  as  the  cough  seized  him. 

The  paroxysm  lasted  till  he  lay  in  limp  misery  on  the 
rough  soil.  His  face  was  turned  towards  her.  His  eyes, 
wet  with  tears  wrung  from  him  by  his  agony,  held  a 
certain  incredible  humor  in  them.  The  light  of  it  broad- 
ened. He  thrust  himself  up  by  one  elbow  and  gasped: 
"Mr.  White  always  picks  his  party,  does  he?  He  did  n't 
miss  his  guess  much  when  he  set  eyes  on  this  lad."  He 
sat  up  and  hunted  round  for  the  haK  consumed  cigarette. 
Finding  it,  he  sucked  it  between  purple  lips  and  smiled 
up  at  her.    "Do  we  mostly  croak,  you  say?" 

His  physical  suffering  was  so  evident  and  his  spirit  so 
dauntless  that  Miss  McCarthy  bent  a  puzzled  brow  over 
the  problem.  A  fresh  spasm  overtook  him,  and  when 
he  had  recovered  she  got  to  her  feet  and  walked  over  to 
him.  "That's  what  does  it,"  she  said  curtly,  snatching 
the  cigarette  stub  from  his  stained  fing(irs. 

He  stared  at  her  in  amazement.     Then  he  scowled. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  9 

"I  guess  I  ain't  askin*  for  any  charity  sister  work,'*  he 
said  weakly.  "  I  guess  I  kin  fight  my  own  fights  without 
petticoats.    You  go  away!" 

His  voice  shook.  Not  with  anger,  as  Miss  McCarthy's 
instinct  told  her.  She  cast  round  in  her  mind  for  some 
explanation  of  this  strange  feebleness.  "Huh!"  she 
muttered,  suddenly  swinging  the  creel  from  her  shoulder. 
She  disappeared  into  the  cabin. 

Her  reappearance  was  inmaediate.  She  strode  to  where 
Spencer  lay  panting  for  breath  and  shook  her  finger  at 
him.  "  Lim  White  is  smarter  than  I  ever  gave  him  credit 
for,"  she  said,  with  a  sarcasm  beneath  which  the  sick  man 
felt  a  tone  of  tenderness.  "I've  heard  of  all  sorts  of 
tenderfeet  and  claim-jumpers  and  timber  men.  But  I 
guess  you're  the  limit.    You  can't  even  cook!" 

"Who  wants  any  cookin'?"  he  demanded  airily. 
"The  doc,  he  says  to  me:  'Get  next  to  Nature,  me  lad. 
Go  out  in  the  wild  woods  and  pick  daisies  and  find  healt' 
and  strengt'.'    He  never  said  nothin'  about  cookin'." 

The  cloud  had  passed,  and  the  afternoon  sun  shone 
faintly  into  the  clearing.  The  young  woman  flashed  a 
look  into  it  and  then  vanished  within  the  shack.  There 
was  the  sound  of  an  ax  on  wood.  Spencer  got  weakly 
to  his  feet  and  made  for  the  doorway.  Before  he  reached 
it  his  unbidden  guest  came  out  to  halt  him.  "You  just 
sit  in  the  sunshine,"  she  commanded  curtly.     "I  never 


10  THELANDCLAIMERS 

saw  such  a  homesteader  as  you.  1*11  bet  you  don*t  even 
know  what  baking  powder  is/' 

He  refused  to  meet  her  warm  eyes.  "I  ain't  boastin','' 
he  remarked.  "But  I  don't  want  any  of  your  help.  I 
kin  see  this  thing  through.    See?" 

She  scorned  him.  "You  sit  still/*  she  ordered.  As  she 
retired  once  more  into  the  cabin  she  sniffed  loudly,  as 
though  to  express  a  profound  sense  that  cooking  and  not 
coquetry  was  demanded  of  her.  At  intervals  the  man 
outside,  struggling  to  stifle  another  fit  of  coughing,  heard 
various  sounds  which  he  rightly  interpreted  to  mean  that 
culinary  operations  were  in  progress.  An  odor  of  ham 
floated  out.  He  brushed  the  moisture  from  his  eyes  and 
swore  vividly  to  himself.  When  she  emerged,  sleeves 
rolled  to  white  elbows,  with  a  platter  of  ham  and  eggs 
surrounded  by  steaming  biscuits,  he  was  ungracious. 

"I  guess  I'm  all  right,"  he  growled.  "I  ain't  askin' 
for  any  help." 

She  looked  down  upon  him  serenely.  "My  sakes!" 
she  exclaimed.     "What  manners!" 

He  ate  ravenously,  in  spite  of  efforts  at  indifference. 
Then  suddenly,  after  the  manner  of  those  afflicted  with 
his  disease,  he  was  surfeited.  He  shoved  the  platter  from 
his  knees  and  rolled  a  cigarette.  She  watched  it  till  it 
was  lit  and  he  had  inhaled  the  first  puff.  Then  she  brushed 
it  from  his  lips  with  a  sweep  of  her  firm  hand.    "  'T  ain't 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  11 

good  for  you,  and  you  know  it,"  she  stormed.  "A  man 
smokes  a  pipe." 

"  I  ain't  askin'  you  for  any  advice,"  he  snarled. 

"All  right,"  she  returned  coldly.  "Go  to  Lim  White 
when  you  want  help.  I  never  knew  a  luckier  man  than 
Lim.  Anybody  else  but  him  would  have  sold  this  rotten 
old  claim  to  some  Swede  six  feet  high  that  would  have 
taken  the  trail  back  and  wiped  up  the  whole  township, 
stumps  and  all,  with  him.  But  Lim  always  gets  a  woman 
or  an  old  man  or  some  do-less  critter."  She  fixed  her 
warm  eyes  on  him  with  a  profound  look  of  compassion. 
"  But  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever  knew  him  to  find  a  fellow 
that  could  n't  cook."  She  picked  up  the  creel,  swung  it 
to  her  shoulder  and  without  a  word  of  farewell  strode 
down  the  declivity  and  into  the  dusk  of  the  creek  bottom. 

Spencer  gazed  after  her.  He  seemed  to  have  something 
to  say;  but  he  found  no  words  to  his  wishing  till  she  was 
vanished.  Then  he  rolled  a  fresh  cigarette.  "Thanks!" 
he  said  huskily.  "You're  a  good  gell."  He  collected  the 
remnants  of  his  meal  and  took  them  inside.  "Gee!"  he 
remarked  to  himself,  presently,  "she  kin  cook!"  Later 
he  studied  the  labels  on  the  cans  of  supplies  and  perused 
with  intense  interest  the  recipes  printed  on  some.  "It's 
up  to  me  to  learn  to  cook,"  he  muttered.  "There's  that 
Lim  White."  Sharp  teeth  showed  between  his  shrunken 
lips.    "I  ain't  dead  yet,"  he  said  menacingly. 


CHAPTER  II 

MISS  SALLY  McCarthy,  christened  Salall  by  a 
mother  who  had  expired  after  giving  her  daughter 
this  last  memorial  of  her  brief  romance  amid  the  forest, 
did  not  inform  her  father  of  the  episode  of  the  new  home- 
steader, except  to  announce  after  supper  that  there  was  a 
fresh  tenderfoot  up  on  Old  Man  Peterson's  place. 

McCarthy,  withdrawing  his  pipe  from  his  mouth, 
emitted  the  sententious  remark  "Lim?" 

"I  guess  it  was  Lim,  all  right,"  said  his  daughter, 
hanging  the  dish-pan  outside  the  door  to  drip. 

"Old,  crippled,  or  msane,"  her  parent  demanded  drily. 

Sally  wrung  out  the  dish-cloth  and  contemplated  the 
wall  of  timber  that  surrounded  their  cabin.  "I  don't 
know,"  she  said  indifferently.  "But  I  guess  Lim '11  get 
into  trouble  some  day.  There  ain't  over  six  fools  in  a  half 
dozen." 

McCarthy  sighed.  "Lim's  pretty  smooth,"  he  re- 
marked. "  He  always  keeps  the  sunny  side  of  the  law  — 
or  the  land  office,  which  is  the  same  thing.  See  the  new 
settler?" 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  13 

"Looked  to  me  like  a  sort  of  nice  little  fellow,"  she  said 
simply. 

"Nice  little  feller  I"  echoed  her  father.  "And  went 
and  took  up  Old  Man  Peterson's  claim!'* 

Later  he  snuffed  the  candle  and  looked  over  to  where 
his  daughter  lay  in  bed  behind  a  gaudy  curtain  of  calico. 
"We  ain't  lost  any  'nice  little  fellers'  round  here,  Sally," 
he  said  meaningly. 

His  daughter  murmured  sleepily,  "Who  said  we  had?" 
With  this  filial  retort  she  went  to  sleep. 

The  next  day  McCarthy  recognized  Mr.  Spencer  as  the 
"nice  little  fellow"  when  he  appeared  along  the  trail, 
with  a  cigarette  in  his  lips  and  a  hard  felt  hat  set  rakishly 
on  the  back  of  his  head.  McCarthy's  greeting  was  curt, 
but  the  tone  was  not  inhospitable.    "Lonesome?" 

"I  came  to  ask  Miss  McCarthy  about  biscuit,"  Spencer 
said  imperturbably. 

"Heard  about  her  cooking?"  McCarthy  asked  more 
amiably. 

"Sure,"  said  the  young  man,  accepting  a  seat  on  the 
bench  by  the  door. 

At  this  moment  Sally  came  out.  She  nodded  to  the  vis- 
itor, and  her  father  said:  "This  is  the  new  feller  on  Old 
Man  Peterson's  place.   This  is  my  daughter  Sally,  Mr.  —  " 

"Spencer,"  was  the  polite  suggestion.  "Glad  to  meet 
you." 


14  THELANDCLAIMERS 

"He  came  over  to  ask  you  about  your  biscuits/'  her 
father  continued  indulgently.  "You've  got  a  repittation 
in  the  timber,  Sally.    Even  the  tenderfeet  hear  about  it." 

Sally  nodded  absently.  Her  clear,  gray  eyes  met  her 
guest's  coolly.    Strange  to  say,  Mr.  Spencer  blushed. 

"I  ain't  up  on  biscuit,"  he  said  diiOBdently.  "I  thought 
maybe  you'd  tell  me  how  it's  done." 

She  sat  down  beside  him,  crossing  one  booted  leg  over 
the  other.  "What  sort  of  biscuit?"  she  demanded 
negligently.    "Risen,  beaten,  soda  or  sour  dough?" 

The  challenge  found  Spencer  unready.  "I  dunno,"  he 
said  hesitatingly.    "I  guess  you  know  the  best  sort." 

"Soda,"  she  said  promptly.  "Come  in  and  I'll  show 
you.    I'm  just  makin'  a  batch." 

Inside  the  comfortable  cabin  Sim  Spencer  found  himself 
at  once  deep  in  the  mysteries  of  lard,  sour  milk,  flour  and 
sugar.  He  fastened  his  attention  on  the  matter,  and 
within  half  an  hour  Sally  informed  him  that  all  he  needed 
further  was  practice.  "Just  see  to  it  that  your  oven's 
hot,"  she  warned  him  finally. 

Sim  lingered.  "  I  wanted  to  say  '  Thanks,' "  he  ventured 
lamely.    "I  guess  you  did  n't  hear  me." 

His  dark  eyes  met  hers.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life 
Sally  felt  embarrassed.  "Dad  has  no  use  for  people  on 
Old  Man  Peterson's  place,"  she  said  abruptly. 

He  nodded.     "I  see  his  fix.    But  I  guess  biscuits  will 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  15 

pull  me  through.  You  see,  it's  this  way/*  he  went  on 
swiftly;   "I  want  to  see  Lim  White  again." 

Her  only  response  was  a  quizzical  look.  McCarthy 
called  from  oustide:  "I  say,  Spencer,  there's  some  cruisers 
in  here  from  the  Eastern  and  Western.  Mebbe  you  could 
find  out  about  your  timber  from  them  and  make  a  deal." 

The  young  man  walked  out  jauntily.  "My  claim's  too 
vallyble  to  sell  now,"  he  said  lightly.  "Fm  goin'  to  hold 
onto  it  for  a  while." 

"How  much  do  you  expect  to  get  for  it?"  McCarthy 
inquired,  with  profound  humor. 

"Twenty  thou,"  was  the  indifferent  reply. 

When  he  was  gone,  McCarthy  addressed  his  daughter. 
"I  guess  Lim  was  in  luck  agin,"  he  remarked.  "That 
feller  is  two-times-two  foolish  and  looks  to  me  as  though 
he  was  n't  good  fer  much  longer,  anyway.  I  wonder  where 
he  comes  from?  He  ain't  never  seen  timber  before,  that's 
certain." 

"I  guess  Lim '11  get  what's  coming  to  him,  some  day," 
his  daughter  answered. 

McCarthy  chuckled.  "Lim's  pretty  smart,"  he  said 
appreciatively. 

The  next  morning  Sim  Spencer,  elbow-deep  in  a  pan  of 
dough,  looked  up  at  a  sUght  sound  to  see  Sally  in  the 
doorway.    "How's  the  biscuit?"  she  demanded. 

He  held  up  floury  hands.     "I  dunno.     I  burnt  up  a 


16  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

batch  last  night  before  I  seen  whether  they  raised  or  not. 
I'm  tryin'  a  new  batch." 

"You  poor  man!"  she  exclaimed,  coming  in.  A  mo- 
ment later  Spencer  found  himself  ousted  from  the  pan 
and  his  visitor  deep  into  the  dough.  "You  must  have 
been  expecting  company, ' '  she  said  coquettishly .  "  You  Ve 
got  enough  here  for  twenty  people." 

"I  thought  I'd  make  plenty,"  he  said.  "But  I  was  n't 
expectin'  any  company." 

"My  sakes!"  she  said  quickly.  "How  hospitable  you 
are!    Want  me  to  go  right  away?" 

His  thin  cheeks  burned.  "Yer  jokin',"  he  responded. 
"  I  guess  I  'm  about  the  biggest  comic  you ' ve  seen  for  some 
hours." 

She  glanced  at  him  over  her  shoulder.  He  received  that 
innocent  message  in  silence,  rolled  a  cigarette,  lit  it  and 
threw  it  away.  "I  was  thinkin'  of  takin'  to  a  pipe,"  he 
remarked.  "But  I  got  to  wait  till  I  kin  get  to  town  and 
fetch  one." 

"It  would  be  lots  better  for  you,"  she  answered.  "It 
would  n't  keep  you  coughing  so." 

"Oh,  I  don't  cough  much,"  Spencer  returned,  with  a 
smile.  "I  guess  the  doc  was  right  when  he  fired  me  out 
of  the  city.    I'm  better  already." 

A  sniff  betrayed  Miss  McCarthy's  scorn  of  this  subter- 
fuge.    "You're  coughing  worse 'n  ever,"  she  said  tartly. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  17 

"It's  all  right  for  you  to  throw  your  cigarette  away  now; 
but  you  '11  smoke  twenty  of  them  to-night  and  cough  your 
eyes  wet." 

"How  do  you  know?"  he  demanded.  "We  ain't  such 
close  neighbors  that  I  keep  you  awake." 

"I  was  wandering  round  after  a  coon  last  night,"  she 
said  hurriedly.    "I  crossed  your  clearing  and  saw  you." 

Spencer  sighed.    "  And  I  was  wishin'  I  was  —  I  was  —  " 

"Wishing  what?"   she  demanded  briefly. 

Sim  scowled.    "Nothin',"  he  replied. 

"Just  what  you  got,"  Sally  answered,  sliding  the  pan 
of  biscuits  into  the  oven.  "So  you  ought  to  have  been 
satisfied.    Now  watch  this  bread.    Good-by." 

He  followed  her  through  the  doorway.  She  nodded 
carelessly.  "I  must  be  traveling.  Lim  White's  due  this 
evening,  and  I  must  be  getting  home."  She  turned  her 
back  and  slipped  down  the  trail  through  the  clearing.  Sim 
watched  her  go  and  then  settled  down  on  a  stump  where 
he  smoked  three  cigarettes  in  succession.  Then  he  lay 
down  on  the  ground  and  coughed  himself  black  in  the 
face.  An  hour  later  he  crept  into  the  cabin.  The  smell  of 
burning  biscuits  lingered.  He  snatched  the  oven  door 
open.  "  If  the  fire  had  n't  have  gone  out,"  he  mused, 
"I'd  ha'  been  out  these  biscuits;  but  I  guess  they're  only 
scorched."    He  bit  into  one  and  nodded  appreciatively. 

That  night  the  moon  rose  over  the  hills  and  poured  a 


18  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

cold  flood  of  light  into  the  clearing.  Every  stump  stood 
out  distinctly.  The  dark  creek  bottom  alone  maintained 
the  secrets  of  the  dusk.  In  its  shadow  a  mink  splashed 
across  a  pool.  Later  a  predatory  owl  swished  among  the 
alders  in  pursuit  of  a  wood  rat.  With  a  sense  of  having 
irretrievably  descended  into  infinite  obscurity,  Sim  Spencer 
shivered  in  the  doorway  of  his  shack  and  contemplated 
with  disgust  the  peace  of  nature.  His  thoughts  were  dis- 
mal. Now  and  then  he  stretched  out  thin  arms  and 
thumped  his  bony  chest  with  closed  fists.  A  crane,  rising 
from  some  invisible  pond,  stalked  out  into  the  open  and 
exercised  itself  in  such  fashion  as  irresistibly  insinuated 
an  imitation  of  the  man.  Sim  snarled  and  shouted  in  rage, 
hurling  a  stone  at  it.  The  crane  sidled  off,  flapped  its 
wings  and  rose  into  the  moonshine.  After  it  he  threw  a 
curse.  Then  he  stumbled  into  his  cabin,  closed  the  door 
and  flung  himself  on  his  hard  bed.  As  the  chill  of  the 
night  air  penetrated  to  his  marrow,  he  drew  the  blanket 
over  his  chin  and  gritted  his  teeth.  "Comes  to  see  her, 
does  he?"  he  groaned.  "I  sure  must  learn  how  to  cook." 
For  three  days  Spencer  labored  over  the  little  stove  to 
such  purpose  that  at  the  end  of  that  period  he  had  a  store 
of  biscuit,  some  passable  baking-powder  bread,  and  a 
lop-sided  cake.  Contemplating  this,  the  homesteader 
felt  of  his  thin  limbs  and  coughed.  "  I  think  I  must  be  a 
little  better,"  he  remarked  to  himself.     "But  not  better 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  19 

enough."  He  picked  out  a  biscuit  and  swallowed  it  with 
a  grimace.  "I  got  to  get  some  weight  on,"  he  continued. 
He  swallowed  another,  with  an  expression  of  extreme  dis- 
taste. His  eyes  rested  on  a  third,  but  his  relief  was  great 
when  a  tramping  outside  the  cabin,  and  a  rough  hail, 
called  him  out.  He  went,  blinking.  A  pack  horse  grazed 
a  dozen  yards  down  the  trail,  and  its  owner  was  engaged 
in  filling  his  pipe  in  the  intervals  of  calling  cheerfully  for 
"Spencer-r-rl" 

"What  is  it?"  he  demanded,  peering  into  the  pallid 
sunshine. 

"Want  any  supplies  to-day?"  said  the  packer,  coming 
forward. 

Spencer  nodded.    "I  want  some  tobacco  and  a  pipe." 

"I  always  bring  that  along,"  the  packer  answered. 
"It's  the  first  thing  every  man  wants."  He  went  to  his 
animal  and  came  back  with  the  articles.  At  his  suggestion 
the  homesteader  made  out  a  further  list  of  supplies  needed. 
This  finished,  the  packer  rose  from  the  bench  he  had  been 
seated  on  and  sniffed  the  air.  "I'm  hungry,"  he  an- 
nounced.   "Mind  if  I  use  your  stove,  partner?" 

"Go  ahead,"  Spencer  assented  hospitably.  "And 
there's  some  stuff  already  cooked.    Help  yourself." 

The  other  soon  made  himself  at  home,  and  after  a 
shrewd  glance  at  his  host  became  very  busy.  In  fifteen 
minutes  he  came  out  with  two  steaming  platefuls  of 


20  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

victuals,  one  of  which  he  handed  to  Spencer.  "Thought 
might  as  well  cook  your  dinner,  too,"  he  said  gruffly. 
"Hope  you  don't  mind." 

The  homesteader  considered  his  visitor  thoughtfully 
and  nodded.  "They  say  Lim  White  picks  his  man  pretty 
careful,"  he  said  gently. 

The  packer  started  violently  and  then  stared.  "Lim's 
quite  a  smart  locator,"  he  managed  to  say.  "Did  you 
know  him  long?" 

"Not  long,"  Spencer  answered.  "But  I  feel  I  know 
him  pretty  well." 

"Sally  told  me  there  was  a  new  man  on  this  place,"  the 
packer  muttered,  dropping  his  eyes  to  his  plate.  "So  I 
came  up  to  see  what  you  wanted  in  the  way  of  supplies." 

"Thanks,"  said  Spencer  lightly.  "I  reckon  to  be  a 
pretty  steady  customer  till  I  prove  up." 

His  companion  considered  this  a  while,  over  his  meal, 
and  then  ventured:   "Going  to  commute?" 

Spencer  coughed.  "If  I  commute,  it'll  cost  me  a  dollar 
and  a  quarter  an  acre  more,  won't  it?" 

"Yes,  but  if  you  don't  you'll  have  to  live  here  three 
years  instead  of  only  fourteen  months." 

This  was  considered  thoughtfully.  "Would  you  ad- 
vise me  to  pay  a  dollar  twenty-five  an  acre  for  this  claim?" 
was  the  question. 

"I  dunno,"  the  packer  said,  putting  his  plate  down  in 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  21 

favor  of  his  pipe.  Then,  to  change  the  subject  to  some- 
thing less  embarrassing,  he  went  on:  "I  guess  Lim's 
thinking  of  marrying  Sally.  Old  Man  McCarthy,  he 
says  his  daughter  sha'n't  marry  any  poor  man.  And 
Lim  's  about  the  only  real  rich  feller  in  the  Siletz, 
except  some  of  the  Indians.  Besides,  he  wants  the  girl 
mighty  bad." 

Silence  followed,  during  which  Spencer  took  the  empty 
plates  into  the  cabin.  When  he  came  out  his  thin  cheeks 
blazed  with  an  unwholesome  color.  "Feel  pretty  mean?" 
the  packer  asked  him  kindly. 

"  I  'm  not  just  fit,"  was  the  brief  answer.  "  But  I  '11  feel 
better  soon.    I  *m  not  exactly  used  to  this  homesteading." 

The  packer  got  his  animal,  said  an  awkward  good-by 
and  departed  across  the  little  clearing.  Spencer,  bent 
over  in  a  paroxysm  of  coughing,  did  not  see  the  man's 
head  shake  as  he  passed  into  the  alders,  nor  observe  that 
in  the  goodness  of  his  heart  he  had  left  a  bottle  of  cough 
syrup  on  the  bench.  Finding  this  article  later,  he  swore 
and  threw  it  into  the  brush.  "What's  the  use?"  he 
demanded  of  the  cold  sky.  "Lim  always  picks  his 
party." 

Nevertheless  he  rescued  the  bottle  that  night  and  hope- 
fully took  a  dose. 

Fall  darkened  and  deepened  into  winter  during  the 
next  few  weeks,  and  Spencer,  consulting  the  laborious 


22  THELANDCLAIMERS 

memoranda  he  had  made  at  White's  drawling  dictation, 
wrestled  with  a  double-bitted  ax  among  the  brush  and 
strove  to  accomplish  the  necessary  "improvements"  re- 
quired of  every  homesteader.  This  industry  was  inter- 
mittent, to  be  sure,  owing  to  the  annoying  facility  with 
which  physical  exertion  brought  on  attacks  of  coughing. 
But  he  stuck  manfully  to  his  task,  though  the  rains  gath- 
ered in  the  mountains,  and  every  day  drenching  showers 
filled  the  creek  bottom  with  roily  water.  Once  a  week 
the  packer  visited  him,  bringing  his  scanty  supplies. 
Apart  from  this  man  he  saw  no  one. 

The  preparations  of  winter  were  complete  at  last. 
The  clouds  assembled  about  the  rising  sun  each  morn- 
ing and  marked  its  setting  each  evening.  Wild  geese 
honked  their  way  overhead,  far  above  the  tree  crests. 
The  bears  ceased  crunching  among  the  huckleberries  at 
night,  and  the  small  creatures  of  the  dank  under-forest 
grew  silent.  Then  the  wind  rose,  gust  by  gust,  day  by 
day,  till  its  furious  blast  roared  through  the  tall  timber 
with  an  incessant  and  horrible  noise.  Occasionally  there 
burst  upon  the  anxious  ear  the  bellow  of  the  Pacific 
Ocean,  thundering  against  the  rocks  a  few  miles  away. 
At  other  times  the  huge,  palpable  silence  of  the  Siletz 
forest  gathered  itself  again  for  an  interval,  and  in  that 
gloomy  stillness  the  earth  itself  seemed  to  cease  to  have 
life  and  there  rose  from  it  the  vast  chill  of  mortality. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  23 

These  phenomena  of  nature  impressed  the  new  home- 
steader more  than  he  admitted  to  himself.  At  night, 
when  his  flimsy  cabin  rocked  on  its  precarious  founda- 
tion, and  the  draught  up  the  stove-pipe  marked  the 
holes  with  little  flights  of  sparks,  he  sat  on  the  edge  of 
his  bunk  and  glowered.  All  his  life  he  had  known  the 
streets  of  San  Francisco,  the  glare  of  lights,  the  noise  of 
humanity,  the  jostle  and  friction  of  mingling  with  thou- 
sands of  companions,  friends,  enemies  and  strangers. 
From  that  lively  scene  he  had  suddenly  been  transferred 
to  the  heart  of  a  lonely  and  interminable  forest,  on  a 
coast  where  no  one  dwelt,  under  a  dripping  and  morose 
sky,  to  spend  dull  days  and  unlit  nights  by  himself. 
Every  sense  within  him  ached.  His  impulse  at  dawn 
was  to  start  on  the  long  trail  back;  his  dreams  at  night 
were  of  arriving  suddenly  under  the  lights  of  Market 
Street,  with  the  clang  of  the  bells  in  his  ears,  the  harsh 
pavement  under  his  feet,  the  glare  of  life  and  enjoyment 
and  pleasure  before  his  eyes.  But  each  day  he  drove 
himself  out  to  his  tasteless  toil,  and  each  night  he  stimu- 
lated himself  by  the  thought  that,  in  all  his  varied  life, 
he  had  never  "quit." 

At  last  the  packer  failed  to  arrive.  Then  he  knew  that 
winter  had  closed  down.  He  remembered  that  he  must 
go  to  McCarthy's  for  supplies,  that  homestead  being  on 
the  main  trail  which  was  still  kept  open  by  strength  of 


24  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

man  and  horse.  But  though  the  flour  ran  low,  and  only 
the  rind  of  the  bacon  was  left,  he  could  not  bring  himself 
to  tramp  the  long  mile.  "I  might  meet  White  there,"  he 
would  mutter  to  himself.    "And  I  ain't  fit,  yet." 

So  he  gloomed  continually  while  the  wind  swept  the 
vast  chords  of  the  forest,  and  the  rain  fell  in  pelting  tor- 
rents, and  the  creek  bottom  filled  till  the  alders  shivered 
in  a  lake  of  chill  water.  His  efforts  with  the  ax  had  sup- 
plied him  with  plenty  of  firewood  and  he  kept  indoors, 
smoking  his  pipe  and  coughing.  Now  and  again,  the 
rain  ceasing  for  an  hour,  he  crept  out  into  the  clearing, 
ax  in  hand,  and  chopped  miserably  at  the  huge  fallen 
trees  that  encumbered  the  ground.  From  these  expedi- 
tions he  would  return  panting,  to  throw  himself  on  his 
rude  bed  and  shiver  into  rest.  Then  his  provisions  gave 
out,  and  for  three  days  he  huddled  over  the  fire. 

During  these  days  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  ghosts  of 
those  who  had  had  the  place  before  him  still  hovered 
wretchedly  in  the  neighborhood.  He  saw  in  imagination 
an  old  man  pottering  around  in  the  dank  earth,  trying 
to  endure  loneliness  and  famine  and  intolerable  toil  till 
the  end.  He  dimly  surmised  that  an  old  woman  had 
crept  about  the  cabin,  crying  to  herself  in  unassuaged 
pain.  The  desolate  clearing,  the  squalid  shack,  the  rain- 
soaked  soil  stood  only  for  poverty  and  deception  and 
want  and  blasting  of  hope.    This,  he  meditated  bitterly, 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  25 

was  that  Nature  he  had  so  often  heard  extolled,  that 
simple  life  that  meant  health  and  strength. 

With  the  fickleness  of  Oregon  weather,  the  sun  sud- 
denly emerged  brightly  from  the  clouds  and  poured  a 
subdued  warmth  down  into  the  clearing.  Spencer, 
crouched  by  his  fire,  felt  the  reviving  influence  and  went 
to  the  door.  As  he  stood  there,  his  vague  gaze  fixed  into 
a  look  of  curiosity.  A  slim  figure  was  wading  the  creek. 
It  was,  he  discerned,  a  woman  holding  a  short  skirt  above 
high  boots.  The  homesteader  watched  her  a  moment, 
then  with  a  swift  glance  backward  into  the  bare  interior 
of  his  cabin,  he  shut  the  door  and  walked  out  to  meet 
Sally  McCarthy. 

She  greeted  him  coldly,  letting  her  skirt  fall  modestly 
over  her  boots.    "I  thought  you'd  quit,"  she  said. 

He  nodded.  "I  s'posed  that's  what  you'd  think,"  he 
said,  with  a  forced  smile.  "But  I'm  still  holding  onto 
my  claim." 

She  looked  at  his  wan  face  and  pinched  frame  with 
open  pity.  "I'll  bet  you  wanted  to  quit,"  she  answered. 
"Why  have  n't  you  been  over  for  your  grub?" 

"Have  n't  needed  it,"  he  said  quickly. 

She  paused  and  glanced  at  her  feet.  "  I  thought  maybe 
—  you'd  —  you'd  come,  anyway,"  she  responded  slowly. 

This  he  pondered  a  while.  Then  he  smiled.  "  I  did  n't 
want  to  meet  Lim  White  —  just  yet,"  he  retorted. 


26  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

"Traidof  him?''  she  sniffed. 

"You  know  he  always  picks  his  party,"  he  said 
humorously. 

She  appeared  to  have  a  sharp  answer  ready,  but  his 
cough  interrupted,  and  she  flew  to  sympathy.  "You 
must  come  and  get  your  grub,"  she  said.  "I  thought 
maybe  you  were  sick.    That's  why  I  came." 

He  looked  away,  ashamed.  "I  guess  I'll  come  with 
you  now,"  he  responded. 

They  waded  the  creek  bottom  and  went  up  the  trail 
that  led  to  her  home.  The  girl  was  in  advance,  stepping 
easily  over  the  rough  ground  or  springing  lightly  across 
a  fallen  tree.  At  intervals  she  called  back  to  her  com- 
panion some  word  of  encouragement  or  information. 
"There's  two  new  settlers  in  the  next  town,"  she  told 
him.  "They  both  got  good  claims,  too.  One  of  them 
is  a  school  teacher,  a  woman  from  Wisconsin  some- 
where." 

"I  wished  I  had  seen  her  comin',''  Spencer  commented 
carelessly.    "I  do  beHeve  I'd  have  sold  out  to  her!" 

"You  wouldn't  sell  your  place  to  a  woman,  would 
you?"  SaUy  called  back. 

"Well,"  Spencer  retorted,  "I  couldn't  sell  to  a  man, 
could  I?" 

"There's  some  letters  for  you,"  she  said  presently. 

Hearing  no  answer  she  stopped  and  looked  back.    He 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  27 

was  not  in  sight.  She  wrinkled  her  forehead  over  this  a 
moment;  then  she  retraced  her  steps.  Around  a  bend 
in  the  trail  she  came  upon  him,  sitting  on  the  root  of  a 
big  fir,  his  face  in  his  hands.  "What's  the  matter?"  she 
inquired. 

He  looked  up  at  her  bravely.  "I'm  sick,"  he  said. 
"I  guess  I'll  go  back."  He  tried  to  get  to  his  feet  and 
failed. 

Sally  gazed  down  at  him,  her  gray  eyes  troubled. 
"Dad's  gone  to  Newport,"  she  said  slowly  and  hesi- 
tated. "He  won't  be  back  short  of  day  after  to-morrow. 
If  you  could  just  get  as  far  as  the  cabin,  I  could  take  care 
of  you." 

His  dark  eyes  closed.  He  shook  his  head.  "Toddle 
on,"  he  said  weakly.  "I'll  be  all  right  pretty  soon  and 
I'll  get  back  to  my  place." 

Sally  shook  her  head  pettishly,  brushed  the  hair  out 
of  her  eyes  and  kicked  a  stone  into  the  canyon  below. 
Having  thus  expressed  her  irritation,  she  stooped  and 
picked  the  sick  man  up  like  a  child.  He  struggled  feebly, 
but  her  strong  arms  held  him  closely.  A  moment  later 
she  had  him  on  his  feet.  One  arm  she  threw  across  his 
back,  under  his  shoulders.  With  the  other  she  held  him 
upright.  "Now  you  just  try  and  walk,"  she  commanded. 
"I'll  do  the  rest." 

Possibly    some    of    the   girl's    vitality    communicated 


28  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

itself  to  the  exhausted  man,  for  gradually  his  steps  be- 
came firmer.  But  she  did  not  relax  her  grasp  of  him  till 
they  emerged  at  last  into  the  clearing  around  her  father's 
cabin.  With  a  gentle  shove,  she  pushed  him  to  a  seat 
on  the  bench.  "There  you  are,  mister,"  she  said.  "Now 
I'll  get  something  to  eat.     I'm  hungry." 

Spencer  ate  but  little.  His  misty  eyes  roved  over  the 
clearing  like  those  of  a  trapped  creature.  He  seemed  to 
be  meditating  an  escape.  But  the  early  night  came,  and 
he  still  sat  on  the  bench.  Sally  busied  herself  in  the 
cabin  till  the  long  shadows  grew  black.  Then  she  came 
out  and  took  him  by  the  arm.  "Bed  for  yours,"  she  said 
curtly. 

He  followed  her,  and  she  pointed  to  a  bunk  behind 
the  stove.  "Tumble  in,"  she  ordered.  When  he  hesi- 
tated and  mumbled  something  about  going  back  to  his 
own  cabin,  she  pooh-poohed  him  and  shoved  him  gently. 
"Hurry!"  she  said  briefly. 

He  managed  to  climb  into  bed.  She  gazed  at  him 
blankly.  "Do  you  go  to  bed  with  your  boots  on?"  she 
demanded. 

He  gulped  and  swung  his  shanks  out.  Later  he  dropped 
one  boot  after  the  other  to  the  floor.  Sally  smiled.  "My 
sakes!"  she  exclaimed.  "If  you  have  n't  got  on  rainbow 
socks!    You're  quite  a  swell,  ain't  you?" 

Spencer  contemplated  the  gorgeous  habiliments  of  his 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  29 

feet  and  then  withdrew  them  swiftly  under  the  blanket. 
From  that  modest  refuge  he  viewed  his  hostess  calmly. 
"  I  like  bright  colors,"  he  said.    "  Any  offense? " 

Sally  shook  her  head.  "No,  sure  not.  I  had  a 
pair  like  yours  when  I  was  six.  I  thought  they  were 
about  as  fine  as  anything.  I  Ve  never  had  a  pair  since. 
Seems  as  if  Government  gray  was  as  good  as  I  could  do 
now." 

Spencer  relaxed  in  the  warmth  and  seemed  deep  in 
some  soothing  meditation.  He  roused  presently.  "  Did  n't 
you  say  there  were  some  letters  for  me?" 

The  girl  reached  up  to  a  shelf  and  drew  out  two.  She 
tossed  them  over  to  him.  Spencer  scanned  the  addresses 
carefully,  held  the  envelopes  up  to  the  light  and  then 
opened  them,  one  after  the  other.  This  done,  he  paused, 
holding  them  in  his  hand.  Then  he  let  one  fall  and  drew 
the  enclosure  out  of  the  other.  His  lips  moved  as  he 
spelled  it  out.  When  he  had  read  it,  he  tucked  it  wearily 
under  his  pillow  and  sank  into  thought.  Sally  glanced 
over  at  him  occasionally  but  said  nothing  till  a  slight 
contraction  of  the  sick  man's  lips  made  her  ask,  "Bad 
news?" 

"Nope,"  he  returned  curtly.  Then  he  got  the  other 
letter  and  read  that. 

When  he  had  finished  it,  he  stared  at  the  ceiling  a 
while.    This  occupation  he  abandoned  to  fix  his  eyes  on 


30  THELANDCLAIMERS 

Sally  with  the  query:  "Are  you  goin'  to  marry  Lim 
White?" 

If  he  anticipated  confusion,  embarrassment  and  blushes, 
he  failed.  Sally  pinned  her  sewing  afresh  to  her  knee 
and  looked  up.    "No,"  she  said  briefly. 

Spencer  digested  this  and  then  ventured  a  second  time, 
"Who  are  you  goin'  to  marry?" 

Sally  scrutinized  her  work  and  tapped  her  teeth 
thoughtfully  with  her  thimbled  finger.  Her  eyes  met 
Spencer's.     "I  don't  know,"  she  answered  slowly. 

"I  thought  all  girls  knew  who  they  were  goin'  to  marry," 
he  said  querulously. 

His  hostess  smiled.  "I  guess  most  of  them  wait  till 
they're  asked,"  she  remarked,  sewing  briskly. 

"Has  n't  Lim  asked  ye?"  he  demanded,  sitting  up. 

Her  gray  eyes  dropped.  "I  guess  he's  setting  his  cap 
for  better  'n  me,"  she  said  severely. 

He  chuckled.  "There's  one  person  smarter 'n  Lim 
White,"  he  remarked  meaningly. 

;  She  glanced  up.  His  humorous  look  called  forth  a 
smile.  She  tossed  her  head.  "Oh,  Lim  isn't  so  many," 
she  asserted.  "Even  if  he  does  get  the  best  of  some  I 
know,"  she  teased. 

Spencer's  smile  was  grim.  "The  game  ain't  over,"  he 
said  acidly.  "Just  let  me  put  on  a  little  more  weight. 
I'U  fix  him!" 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  31 

"More  weight!"  she  repeated  curiously. 

He  chuckled  again.    "You  don't  know  who  I  am?" 

She  stared  at  him,  startled.  He  reassured  her.  "  Noth- 
ing dangerous,"  he  admitted.  "D'  ye  never  hear  of  Sim 
Spencer  of  Spencer  &  Ross?" 

"  I  never  did,"  she  confessed. 

He  grimaced.  "That's  notoriousness  for  you.  Why, 
I'm  the  wickedest  man  on  the  San  Francisco  water-front. 
I  've  been  shippin'  sailors  for  ten  years.  They  don't  make 
*em  I  could  n't  handle.  Of  course  I  'm  all  wore  out  now. 
But  if  I  could  only  get  my  weight  back  for  five  minutes, 
I'd  show  your  Lim  White  a  thing  or  two." 

She  stared  at  his  worn  and  seamed  visage  with  inno- 
cent eyes.  "You're  awful  sick,  ain't  you?"  she  said 
simply. 

"That's  it,"  he  assented  wearily.  "But  I  was  never  a 
quitter.  If  I  kin  only  make  weight  now,  I'll  fix  Lim 
White."  His  voice  died  away.  Presently  he  looked  out 
of  his  bunk  again.  "Lim  White  picks  his  party  pretty 
careful,  don't  he?  "    His  eyes  met  hers  bravely. 

A  little  later  Sally  put  her  sewing  away  and  retired  be- 
hind the  calico  curtain  which  formed  her  sleeping  room. 
From  this  privacy  she  called  out  "Good  night."  Spencer 
muttered  a  reply.  "Pretty  near  asleep,"  thought  Sally, 
pulling  the  blankets  up  about  her. 

But  Spencer  was  not  sleepy.    Through  long  hours  he 


32  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

lay  with  his  eyes  on  the  ceiling,  on  which  the  light  of  the 
dying  fire  played  fitfully.  Now  and  then  he  stirred  rest- 
lessly. Finally  he  half  rose  in  bed  and  thumped  his 
pillow.  "I'll  do  it/'  he  said  to  himself.  "That's  the 
ticket!"    He  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  III 

SPENCER  awakened  to  find  Sally  already  up  and 
busy  over  the  stove.  She  greeted  him  calmly  and 
announced  breakfast.  With  some  effort  he  arose  and, 
after  washing  his  face  in  the  basin  outside  the  door,  came 
in  and  sat  down  to  the  table.  After  breakfast  he  got  up. 
"I  s'pose  I  better  be  moseying  along,"  he  said.  "Much 
obliged." 

Sally  shook  her  head.  "  The  wind 's  getting  up.  You  Ve 
got  to  stay  here  with  me.  I  'm  afraid  when  the  wind  blows. 
Dad  would  n't  cut  down  the  big  trees  around  the  cabin; 
said  they  were  worth  money.  And  I'm  always  afraid 
they'll  blow  down  some  night  and  kill  us." 

Spencer  gazed  at  her  smilingly.  "I'll  bet  you  ain't 
much  afraid  of  the  storms,"  he  said.  "But  I'll  stay,  if 
you  want  me  to.  And  if  you've  got  pen  and  ink  and 
paper  I'll  just  answer  these  letters  I  got." 

The  gray  forenoon  found  him  still  busy  with  the  writing 
materials.  For  some  reason  constant  reference  was  neces- 
sary to  both  letters,  and  he  lost  much  time  in  finding  his 
place  first  in  the  letter  he  had  received  and  then  in  the 
letter  he  was  writing.    At  last  he  was  done.    With  a  sigh 


34  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

he  folded  them  all  up  and  devoted  himself  to  directing 
two  envelopes.  Then  he  had  great  difficulty  in  making 
sure  that  he  had  the  right  letter  in  the  proper  envelope. 
Sally  occasionally  stopped  in  her  work  long  enough  to 
remark  coquettishly  that  she  was  sure  he  was  writing  to 
his  best  girl.  At  this  remark  Spencer  consistently  looked 
over  and  assured  her  that,  in  view  of  present  company, 
he  could  think  of  no  one  else  besides  herself. 

Finally  he  reread  all  the  letters.  The  first  —  the  one 
he  had  first  looked  at  the  night  before  —  was  written  on 
a  physician's  letter-head.    It  was  as  follows: 

San  Fbancisco,  Cal., 

September  24,  1906. 

Dear  Sim,  —  I  have  heard  how  you  are  getting  along  since 
you  left  the  city.  I  hope  you  are  feeling  better.  You  have 
no  definite  disease  but  you  have  a  couple  of  bad  lesions  that 
may  make  you  serious  trouble.  I  have  no  doubt  but  that 
you  will  gain  weight  and  strength  in  the  open  air.  But 
don't  overdo.  Don't  try  to  do  a  man's  work.  I  may  as 
well  tell  you  at  once  that  you  are  past  the  time  when  you  can 
do  what  you  used  to  do.  The  slightest  exertion  may  prove 
fatal  in  your  weakened  condition,  and  even  when  you  get 
stronger  any  continued  or  violent  physical  effort  may  kill  you. 

Don't  let  this  discourage  you.     With  care  you'll  live  to 
moiu'n  for  us  all.    The  boys  are  well  and  inquire  after  you. 
Bill  was  in  Tuesday  and  asked  me  whether  I  thought  you 
needed  any  money.    If  you  go  broke,  call  on  any  of  us. 
Very  truly  yoms, 

Richard  T.  Hobbs,  M.D. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  35 

The  second  letter  was  on  brilliant  purple  paper  upon 
which  a  glaring  ink  showed  with  painful  distinctness. 
The  envelope  was  scented.    This  was  the  letter: 

Dear  Old  Sim,  —  Doc  tells  me  you're  in  Oregon  living 
the  simple  life.  Who  *d  have  supposed  it  of  you.  Well,  such 
is  life.  Now  I  want  you  to  help  me,  Sim.  You  know  IVe 
always  sort  of  looked  to  you  since  Harry  quit  me  cold  two 
years  after  we  were  married.  I  know  you'll  do  it,  just  as 
you  always  have.  Only  this  is  different  It's  about  Hal. 
He  left  college  last  June  with  his  degree  and  diploma  all 
right.  I  sent  him  up  to  Canada  for  the  summer  and  told 
him  I  thought  he'd  need  a  vacation  after  his  hard  work 
studying.  But  it's  getting  towards  winter  now  and  Hal 
writes  me  long  letters  saying  he  wants  to  come  to  Frisco  and 
get  a  job  teaching  somewhere. 

You  see  what  that  means,  Sim.  It  would  have  been  all 
right  when  I  was  in  legitimate  at  the  old  Alcazar.  But  I'm 
in  vaudeville.  Worse  than  that.  I  'm  clear  down  to  variety. 
I'm  getting  old,  Sim.  I  do  my  turn  just  as  I  used  to  do. 
But  it  don't  take  any  more  and  if  I  did  n't  have  a  contract 
with  Myers  I'd  be  off  the  circuit  now.  You  know  I've  had 
to  work  pretty  hard  to  keep  Hal  in  college  and  fix  him  up 
like  a  gentleman.  Now  that's  all  done.  But  you  can  see  it 
would  n't  do  for  him  to  come  out  here  and  find  his  mother  in 
taudevUle.  It  would  kill  him  and  kill  me,  too,  I  guess,  Sim. 
I've  just  got  to  keep  him  in  the  dark.  He's  so  proud.  Just 
think  what  my  boy  would  say  if  he  came  out  to  take  a  posi- 
tion in  the  university  and  it  turned  out  his  mother  was  playing 
the  cheap  circuits  in  a  dance  turn.    So  I  want  you  to  help  me. 

I  want  you  to  write  to  Hal  and  tell  him  you're  on  a  ranch 
or  whatever  it  is  in  Oregon  and  that  you  want  him  to  come 


36  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

and  see  you.  Tell  him  there's  money  in  the  West  and  he 
can  make  a  good  Hving.  I'll  try  and  send  you  some  money 
every  week  and  you  can  pay  him  a  salary  till  he  really  gets 
settled.  Then  you  can  help  me  keep  my  secret.  You  know 
I  have  n't  seen  my  boy  since  he  was  twelve  and  in  the  board- 
ing school  and  I  was  with  the  Roberts  in  The  Danites. 
He  still  thinks  I'm  in  legitimate  but  only  acting  when  I  feel 
like  it  and  hving  hke  a  lady  the  rest  of  the  time.  So  you 
can  just  help  me  out.  Tell  him  you  know  me  and  I  'm  doing 
all  right  and  so  on.  You  know  the  talk  I  'd  like  him  to  hear. 
You  won't  have  to  keep  it  up  for  long,  Sim.  My  contract 
with  Myers  is  out  next  May,  Then  I'll  quit  and  leave  Hal 
to  Hve  like  a  gentleman  without  his  mother  in  vaudeville. 
I  'm  sick,  anyway,  so  it  won't  be  any  trouble.  And  Hal  won't 
ever  know.  He'll  get  along  all  right,  too.  It's  so  much 
easier  for  a  man  than  a  woman. 

I  enclose  a  money  order  for  thirty  dollars.  Send  it  to  Hal 
for  his  ticket.  His  address  is  Wallingford,  Ontario,  Canada. 
Write  me  right  away  that  you'll  do  this  and  I'll  bless  you, 
Sim,  all  my  hfe.  Tell  me  how  Hal  looks  when  he  comes. 
I  'm  sending  you  our  route  card  so  you  can  find  out  where  to 
address  me.  Is  it  right  as  doc  says  that  you're  down  and 
out  for  a  while?  Or  are  you  just  resting  up?  Take  care  of 
yourself.  You  might  tell  Hal  that  I'll  be  down  to  see  him 
next  summer.    That's  a.  joke,  Sim.    But  Hal  will  never  know. 

Flossetta  Marini, 

Care  The  Marini  Trio. 

After  perusing  these  with  bent  brows  Spencer  took  up 
his  replies.    To  the  doctor  he  had  written: 

Dear  Doc,  —  I'm  feelin  fit  as  a  fiddel.  Gained  6  pounds. 
Im  on  a  timber  claim  worth  20,000  dollars.    Thank  the  boys 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  37 

for  me.  I  wont  be  back  for  a  while.  My  cough  is  better  but 
111  remember  what  you  said  about  the  hard  work.  Ever 
know  me  to  work  my  head  off?  I  aint  that  sort.  This  lyin 
round  business  is  just  my  ticket.  When  I  get  my  20,000  111 
come  down  and  see  you. 

Yrs  truly 

Sim  Spencer 

To  Flossetta  Marini  his  letter  was  longer: 

SiLETZ,  December  1,  1906. 

Dear  Miss  Flossetta,  —  You  came  to  the  right  party 
about  your  son.  Ill  look  after  him  on  my  ranch.  Im  pretty 
well  off.  The  doc  is  all  off  when  he  says  Im  down  and  out. 
Thats  his  guff.  I  need  a  good  willing  fellow  to  work  for  me 
and  111  be  glad  to  give  him  the  job.  Lots  of  real  gentlemen 
work  on  ranches  and  111  try  to  get  him  a  better  job  right  away. 
You  neednt  mind  to  send  any  money.  Id  have  to  pay  some- 
body and  Hal  might  as  well  have  it  as  any  body. 

Of  course  111  not  squeal  on  you  though  I  dont  see  no  harm 
in  your  bein  in  vaudeville.  Anyways  you  worked  too  hard 
for  him.  If  I  was  you  Id  stop  thinkin  over  that  next  May. 
You  might  have  good  news  before  then.  If  your  son  is  any 
good  which  Im  not  sayin  he  aint  he  wont  thank  you  for 
leavin  him.  But  111  keep  it  all  dark  and  do  my  best.  This 
is  a  great  country  and  lots  of  money  in  it.  Cheer  up,  Miss 
Flossetta  and  dont  mope.  Now  that  Hal  is  suportin  himself 
loosen  up  and  spend  a  little  on  yourself. 

Respectfully  yours, 

S.  Spencer. 

P.  S.  Im  sendin  back  the  money  order  as  I  need  Hal  any- 
way and  111  take  it  out  of  his  wages. 

Sim. 


38  THELANDCLAIMERS 

He  sealed  the  letters  and  extracted  from  his  wallet  two 
stamps,  which  he  carefully  affixed.  Then  he  tm-ned  to 
Sally.  "That's  done,"  he  announced.  "Now  I've  got 
to  mail  them  somehow." 

"The  packer  will  be  here  day  after  tomorrow,"  she 
answered.    "Can't  your  sweethearts  wait  till  then?" 

Spencer  grinned.  "Cry  their  eyes  out  if  they  don't 
hear  immediate,"  he  responded. 

The  girl  sniffed.  "Well,  the  wind's  coming  up,  and 
nobody  can  get  to  Siletz  this  weather.  So  they'll  have 
to  wait." 

A  glance  out  the  door  showed  that  she  was  right.  Far 
above  the  tree-tops  dark  clouds  were  scurrying  westward 
before  a  driving  gale  that  only  now  and  then  descended  to 
twist  the  fir  crests  into  a  wild  dance.  The  underbrush 
crackled  slightly  as  the  widespreading  roots  tugged  at 
their  shallow  anchorage.  "It  does  look  like  a  storm," 
Spencer  admitted,  coughing  as  a  draught  of  chill  air 
struck  him. 

"I  can  always  tell  when  they're  coming,"  Sally  repUed. 
"They  begin  in  the  east  and  then  blow  right  round  till 
they're  in  the  west.    Then  it  does  blow." 

Sim  fingered  the  envelopes  and  hesitated.  Then  he 
shut  the  door.  "Ever  hear  of  any  one  being  hurt?"  he 
asked  idly. 

Sally's  face  flushed  and  then  went  white.    "The  Orwigs 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  39 

were  all  five  of  them  under  a  big  fir  in  the  next  township 
last  winter,"  she  said,  with  a  shudder. 

He  turned  at  her  tone  and  shook  his  head  commiserat- 
ingly.    "Did  that  scare  ye?'' 

She  nodded  and  her  gray  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "There 
was  a  baby!"  she  said  breathlessly.    "A  new  baby!" 

He  looked  away  and  his  mouth  twitched.  "Too  bad," 
he  managed  to  stammer.  Sally  went  out  the  door  with  a 
muttered,  "  I  must  shut  up  those  chickens  before  it  blows," 
and  Spencer  nodded  to  himself.  "Poor  gell,"  he  said 
slowly.  Then  the  revelation  of  the  girl's  face  struck  him 
again,  and  he  patted  the  letters  in  his  pocket.  "You're 
all  women  aUke,  Fossetta,"  he  remarked.  "You're  al'ays 
thinkin'  of  the  babies."    He  sat  down  gloomily. 

The  storm  brewed  slowly,  with  great  gusts  that  left  the 
forest  trembling  in  a  stillness  of  expectancy.  Sally,  her 
chickens  safely  housed,  brought  in  the  wood  and  water, 
refusing  Spencer's  assistance.  Then  she  called  him,  and 
they  put  up  the  wooden  shutters  that  protected  the  win- 
dows. As  they  entered  and  closed  the  door  for  the  last 
time,  the  rain  was  beating  through  the  dense  branches, 
and  the  steady  roar  of  the  gale  was  overhead.  The  after- 
noon Hght  vanished  in  a  whirl  of  black  cloud.  Then  a 
terrific  crash  marked  the  fall  of  the  first  tree.  Standing 
in  the  middle  of  the  shaking  cabin,  Spencer  looked  at 
Sally.    "I'm  glad  you  ain't  alone,"  he  said  simply. 


40  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

She  smiled  bravely.  "You  don't  mind  if  I'm  awfully 
afraid,  do  you?  " 

In  the  darkness  that  filled  the  room,  Spencer  gulped. 
But  she  saw  only  his  dark,  bright  eyes  lit  with  a  certain 
humorous  gleam.  "My  sakes!"  she  exclaimed  airily. 
"If  you  don't  think  it's  all  a  joke!" 

Spencer  thrust  his  pipe  between  his  lips  and  lit  a  match. 
Holding  the  blowing  flame  over  its  empty  bowl,  he  showed 
her  his  meagre  face  twisted  into  a  grin.  "  I  'm  the  great- 
est joker  ever,"  he  told  her.  "I've  done  all  the  jokin'  for 
as  many  as  three  people  at  a  time!" 

The  match  went  out,  and  Sally  crossed  the  room  to  the 
stove.  "We  had  better  eat  some  supper,"  she  remarked. 
"Just  light  the  lantern." 

He  lit  it  and  hung  it  up  on  a  hook  behind  the  stove. 
Then  he  relaxed  into  a  chair  and  listened  to  the  tumult  of 
the  storm  without.  Even  to  his  unaccustomed  ear  it  was 
increasing  in  violence.  The  roar  had  gradually  left  the 
tree-tops  and  now  shook  through  the  huge  trunks,  tear- 
ing at  the  undergrowth,  ripping  long  feeder  roots  out  of 
their  hold  in  the  soil  with  reports  like  rifle  explosions.  Far 
up  the  canyon  timber  fell  resonantly.  But  so  far  no  second 
tree  had  fallen  close  to  the  cabin. 

When  supper  was  ready,  he  ate  little  of  it.  His  offer 
to  help  wash  the  dishes  was  refused,  and  he  settled  down 
with  pen  and  ink  again,  much  to  Sally's  amusement. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  41 

"Going  to  make  your  will  again?"  she  demanded,  glanc- 
ing over  his  shoulder  with  childish  freedom. 

"Leaving  my  timber  claim  and  twenty  thousand  dollars 
to  you/*  he  returned. 

His  laborious  pen  scratched  on  and  on.    Before  long  he 

was  quite  obUvious  of  the  storm.     He  was  writing,  as 

Sally  observed,  to  a  man  named  Hal.    She  did  not  look 

fmlher.    But  this  was  what  Spencer  wrote: 

SiLETZ,  Oregon, 

December  3,  1906. 

Dear  Sir,  —  May  be  you  heard  your  mother  Miss  FIos- 
setta  the  famous  actress  speak  of  S.  Spencer.  I  knew  her 
and  your  father.  I  have  a  place  here  in  the  woods  worth  a 
lot  of  money  and  I  need  a  smart  young  fellow  to  help  me  with 
it  for  a  year.  I  wrote  to  your  mother  and  she  said  you  was 
done  colledge  and  might  come.  So  I  enclose  100  dollars  to 
pay  for  your  ticket  and  I  will  pay  you  a  salary  when  you 
come.  You  will  have  lots  of  chances  to  make  money  here 
and  get  rich.  My  claim  is  worth  20,000  dollars  but  I  need  a 
smart  man  to  help  me.  Please  come  soon  and  next  summer 
your  mother  will  come  and  see  you.  I  was  in  business  in 
San  Francisco  till  I  got  sick  and  then  the  doc  sent  me  here. 
Come  soon  &  oblige 

yrs  truly 

S.  Spencer 

Having  finished  this,  Spencer  moved  the  lantern  from 
its  hook  and  reread  it  by  the  improved  light.  He  dotted 
his  i's  and  crossed  his  t's,  shaking  his  head  once  or  twice 
over  spellings.    Then  he  took  out  his  wallet  and  extracted 


42  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

from  it  a  yellow-backed  bill.  This  he  folded  and  pinned 
to  the  top  of  the  letter.  He  thrust  it  into  an  envelope  and 
addressed  it,  after  due  reference  to  Miss  Flossetta's  epistle. 
"There!"  he  remarked  to  Sally.  "That's  done.''  He 
took  up  the  wallet  and  closed  it  slowly.  There  were  but 
three  more  bills  in  it.  Spencer  sighed.  Sally  leaned  over 
the  table.  "  My  sakes !  but  you  do  throw  money  around ! " 
she  exclaimed. 

"  Bills/'  said  Spencer  briefly.  "  We  gotta  pay  our  debts, 
you  know." 

She  nodded  soberly.  "Lim  White  don't  pay  his  bills," 
she  remarked  inconsequently.  "I've  heard  the  comp'ny 
over  at  the  Agency  say  he  was  the  worst  ever." 

"He'll  pay  one  bill,"  Spencer  replied  calmly.  "I'm 
the  best  bill  collector  you  ever  saw." 

She  looked  at  him  with  sympathy  in  her  deep  gray  eyes. 
"I  wouldn't  worry  over  your  old  claim,"  she  suggested 
gently. 

His  mouth  softened.  "I  ain't  worryin',"  he  responded 
mildly.  "I'm  just  waitin'.  I  figure  my  claim  is  worth 
twenty  thousand  dollars.    And  I'm  goin'  to  collect." 

"You  better  pile  into  bed,"  she  urged  him,  watching  his 
flushed  cheeks  withaa  maternal  eye.  "You're  none  too 
well." 

He  laughed.  "  If  you  '11  just  help  me  out  with  the  cookin' 
a  while,  I'll  put  on  weight  Hke  any  thin'.    Them  biscuit 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  43 

of  yours  are  just  the  thing.  You  wait  till  I  get  my  healt' 
back.    You  won't  know  me!" 

"You  get  to  bed,"  she  ordered. 

He  took  off  his  boots  and  climbed  slowly  into  the  bunk. 
Once  under  the  blanket,  he  glanced  over  at  his  hostess. 
"You  ain't  awfully  afraid,  are  ye?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "  But  when  it  does  blow  — ."  She 
shuddered. 

He  watched  her.  She  sat  by  the  table,  her  bare  arms 
crossed  over  her  bosom.  When  the  cabin  shook  to  a  heavy 
gust,  she  flinched  slightly.  Apart  from  this  involuntary 
movement,  she  gave  no  sign  that  she  was  conscious  of  her 
surroundings.     He  fell  asleep. 

He  wakened  at  a  crash  that  seemed  to  mark  the  de- 
struction of  the  cabin.  He  leaped  out  of  his  bunk  and 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  heaving  floor,  staring  wildly  into 
the  darkness.  Overhead  a  great  weight  thrust  gently 
but  surely  down  upon  the  roof.  He  heard  the  rafters  give 
slowly.  The  table  leaned  over  from  the  unseen  and  touched 
his  hand.  From  outside  a  swift,  chill  draught  cut  into 
the  interior  like  a  knife.  The  cabin  ceased  to  strain  and 
the  draught  failed.  Something  dripped  heavily,  insist- 
ently on  the  floor.    "Hey I"  shouted  Spencer.    "Hey!" 

There  was  no  answer  to  his  call  and  he  tried  to  step 
forward.  His  toes  hit  some  resisting  object.  He  turned 
and  tried  to  go  in  another  direction.    Again  he  was  balked. 


44  THELANDCLAIMERS 

He  thrust  his  thumb  and  forefinger  into  his  watch  pocket 
and  drew  out  a  bunch  of  matches.  He  scratched  one  and 
held  it  out. 

The  Httle  flame  burnt  blue,  then  sputtered  into  yellow 
and  flared  up.  Spencer  saw  a  cloudy,  glistening  mass  on 
every  side  of  him.  Gradually  he  made  out  its  character. 
It  was  the  dense,  bushy  plumage  of  a  fir  tree.  In  the 
interior  of  this  he  thought  he  saw  something  white.  He 
held  the  match  out  further.  It  flamed  up  to  his  fingers  and 
showed  him  a  face,  pallid,  stony,  set  in  immitigable  horror. 
It  was  the  terror-frozen  face  of  Sally.   The  match  went  out. 

With  shaking  fingers  he  lit  a  second  match,  and  even 
before  it  blazed  up  he  drove  his  right  foot  forward  into 
the  yielding  boughs.  A  drop  of  rain  extinguished  the 
feeble  light,  but  he  dived  on  and  tore  at  the  branches. 
He  stumbled,  and  as  he  fell  his  hands  clutched  the  cloth 
of  the  girFs  dress.  He  heaved  himseK  up,  put  out  his 
groping  arms  and  found  her. 

The  instant  his  embrace  tightened,  she  lapsed  against 
his  breast  with  a  great  sigh.  He  gathered  her  closer  and 
pushed  his  way  backward  into  an  open  space.  There  he 
stood,  holding  her,  while  the  gale  roared  fiercely  through 
the  broken  roof  and  flung  dashes  of  rain  over  them.  He 
put  his  lips  to  her  ear.  "Hey!"  he  cried.  "Hey!  are  ye 
hurt?" 

She  made  no  response,  and  he  slowly  drew  her  still 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  45 

further  back  till  he  felt  the  edge  of  his  bunk  against  his 
back.  Then  he  turned  and  laid  her  down  in  it.  He  lit 
another  match  and  searched  the  darkness  till  he  saw  the 
lantern,  still  dependent  from  the  wall,  which  had  been 
thrust  over  the  stove  like  a  curled  leaf.  He  managed  to 
strike  a  light  and  with  the  lantern  in  hand  he  returned  to 
throw  its  beam  on  the  girPs  form. 

He  saw  that  she  was  dressed,  even  to  heavy  boots.  Her 
skirt  was  wet  and  drops  of  moisture  stood  out  in  the 
masses  of  her  hair  and  on  her  face.  Her  great  eyes  were 
open,  turned  to  him  with  an  appeal  that  shook  him.  Ter- 
ror, pure  and  unmingled  with  other  human  emotion,  was 
written  plainly  on  her  features.  It  affected  Spencer  as  no 
feminine  display  of  feeling  or  sensibility  could  have  done. 
Unacquainted  with  many  things,  he  knew  what  terror 
meant.  As  an  expression  it  was  not  unfamiliar  to  his 
experience  of  human  faces.  True,  he  did  not  comprehend 
the  cause  of  it.  He  understood  vaguely  that  the  fall  of 
the  tree  and  the  wreck  of  the  cabin  had  had  something  to 
do  with  it.  But  that  was  over.  Terror,  to  his  mind,  had 
only  a  relation  to  the  future.  And  this  persistence  of 
horror,  this  stony,  wide-eyed  dread,  affected  him  with 
qualms.  He  stared  round  over  his  shoulder.  But  he 
could  see  nothing  formidable,  nothing  that  was  not  past. 
He  turned  his  eyes  down  upon  the  girl  and  clumsily  brushed 
her  forehead  with  his  hand.    "Cheer  up!'*  he  remarked. 


46  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

Still  her  pallid  face  was  turned  to  his  with  unwinking 
steadiness.  He  raised  his  hand  and  turned  the  lantern 
flame  higher.  Then  he  looked  down  with  a  humorous 
glance.  "I  guess  you  need  pettinV' he  said  equably.  He 
stretched  out  his  arms  and  took  her  up  gently.  Her  weight 
made  him  gasp  for  breath,  but  he  persevered.  A  little 
later  he  found  a  seat  and  sat  down,  holding  her  tightly 
against  his  breast.  Her  eyes  had  commenced  to  waver.  He 
looked  down  pityingly  and  shook  his  head  at  her.  "  Cheer 
up!"   he  said  softly. 

Suddenly  her  arms  went  round  his  neck.  She  screamed. 
He  shivered  and  then,  when  she  sobbed,  he  swore  brokenly. 
Before  he  realized  it,  the  fit  was  past,  and  she  was  sitting 
up  on  his  knees,  wiping  her  eyes. 

"I  was  scared,"  she  said. 

"Poor  little  gell!"  Spencer  responded. 

She  caught  her  breath,  flung  out  her  arms  and  slid  from 
his  knees.  "My  sakes!"  she  managed  to  say.  She  van- 
ished into  the  obscurity,  and  Spencer  heard  the  crunch 
of  her  feet  over  the  branches.  Then  he  dissolved  into  a 
spasm  of  coughing. 

Morning  came  hesitatingly.  Though  the  gale  had 
decreased,  the  forest  still  resounded  to  an  occasional  fall 
of  a  tree.  The  rain  poured  incessantly  with  a  lugubrious 
and  solemn  sound.  The  daybreak  showed  that  the  cabin 
had  barely  missed  complete  destruction.    A  three  hundred 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  47 

foot  fir  lay  across  the  clearing,  broken  in  two  places  where 
it  had  hit  stumps.  One  of  the  breaks  was  beside  the  cabin. 
Spencer  looked  at  the  yellow  splinters,  at  the  huge  limb 
that  arched  over  the  cabin,  and  whistled.  "That  was  a 
close  call,"  he  muttered.  He  took  the  ax  and  began  the 
slow  work  of  chopping  the  smaller  limbs  and  boughs  away 
from  the  doorway. 

In  the  midst  of  his  labor  Sally  returned.  Her  face  was 
white  but  her  eyes  were  clear  and  untroubled.  She 
silently  helped  him  and  then,  the  passage  once  clear,  went 
inside.  Her  voice  came  out:  "We've  got  to  fix  up  the 
chimney." 

Spencer  went  in  and  looked  at  the  chimney  curiously. 
It  was  built  of  shakes,  against  the  side  of  the  shack,  and 
was  lined  roughly  with  tin  from  old  oil  cans.  It  had 
bulged  out  ridiculously  and  its  fall  seemed  imminent. 
Following  Sally's  directions,  he  brought  a  twenty  foot 
piece  of  fir  and  propped  it  up.  Then  with  the  ax  they 
carefully  drove  it  back  into  the  perpendicular.  "It'll 
look  worse  'n  ever,"  was  Sally's  verdict  when  they  were 
through,  "but  it'll  hold  a  while." 

Spencer  scanned  it  critically.  "If  it  suits  you  it  suits 
me,"  he  said.    "But  I'd  hate  to  trust  it." 

She  glanced  at  him  quickly.  "  I  believe  you  'd  risk  any- 
thing," she  remarked.    "You  are  n't  ever  afraid!" 

He  caught  her  eyes  and  his  answering  smile  was  troubled. 


48  THELANDCLAIMERS 

"Oh,  I'm  afraid  often  enough/'  he  responded.  He  paused 
and  went  on:  "I'm  scared  of  lots  of  things." 

His  look  met  hers  again,  a  little  timidly.  Sally's  hand 
let  the  frying-pan  clatter  on  the  stove.  A  betraying  flush 
spread  over  her  smooth  cheeks  and  then,  with  a  swift 
yielding  of  her  gray  eyes  to  his,  the  color  flooded  her  face 
and  throat.    "You  ain't  afraid  at  all!"   she  miu-mured. 

Spencer  shook  his  head  and  went  to  the  door.  The 
great  dampness  of  the  forest  breathed  in  upon  him;  the 
chill,  unspeakable  odor  of  vast  vegetation,  sunless  and 
humid.  City  bred,  his  senses  attuned  to  the  various  song 
of  swarming  humanity,  this  verdant  and  persistent  wildness 
of  the  forest,  this  steady,  irresistible  growth  of  everything, 
this  uppoiu'ing  of  life  from  the  dark  earth,  culminating  in 
the  gigantic  struggle  among  the  tree  crests  of  wind  and 
storm  and  rain,  enveloped  him  in  a  mental  darkness.  He 
could  pick  out  no  familiar  sound.  There  was  no  single 
thread  of  human  warmth  in  this  air  of  conflict.  There  was 
only  the  coldness,  the  humidity,  the  tremendous  vitahty 
of  the  dark  timber.  Its  unfamiliarity  did  not  terrify  him. 
The  gale  still  roaring  above  did  not  frighten  him.  But 
his  heart  was  shaken.  He  stretched  out  his  thin  arms, 
tentatively,  and  threw  his  uneasy  glance  out  into  the  rain- 
beaten  shadows.  His  arms  trembled  and  his  eyes  wavered. 
Deeper  than  the  mystery  of  the  forest,  colder  than  the 
sunless  green  of  the  firs,  vaster,  far  more  awing,  was  the 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  49 

mystery  behind  him  in  McCarthy's  cabin.  He  put  them 
together,  the  kindred  secrets  of  his  environment.  "Gee!" 
he  muttered.  "I  ain't  up  to  the  weight  of  it!  I  had  n't 
ever  ought  to  have  come  here."  He  stared  into  the  writh- 
ing thicket  of  alders.  His  thin  cheeks  were  on  fire.  His 
eyes  blazed  with  a  man's  desire  to  overcome,  to  fetter,  to 
subdue.  Suddenly  he  bent  over  in  a  paroxysm  of  cough- 
ing. When  he  got  his  breath  again,  he  shook  his  head  in 
renunciation.  "She  ain't  never  seen  a  mariy^  he  com- 
muned with  himself. 

Sally  came  to  the  door  presently  and  announced  break- 
fast. Spencer  nodded  without  meeting  her  eyes  and  came 
in.  He  sat  down  to  the  table  among  the  debris  of  broken 
boughs  and  started  to  eat  hastily.  At  the  end  of  the 
meal  he  looked  up  to  meet  Sally's  glance. 

"You  ain't  feeling  well,"  she  said  warmly.  "I'd  like 
to  cook  you  something  you'd  relish." 

Once  more  her  girlish  face  flushed  deeply.  He  started 
to  answer  her  and  refrained.  Sally  reached  out  her  firm, 
brown  hand  and  laid  it  on  his  thin  one.  "I'd  just  love 
to  cook  you  something  you'd  like,"  she  repeated  quietly. 

He  managed  to  Uft  his  eyes.  She  glowed.  Her  strong 
figure,  warmed  by  an  inward  fire,  dominated  him  for  an 
instant.  Then,  as  a  wave  ebbs,  her  face  became  pallid 
and  her  arms  fell  lax  upon  the  table,  outstretched  towards 
him.    "I  was  so  afraid!"  she  said  slowly.    "And  you  just 


50  THELANDCLAIMERS 

smiled  I  I  thought  you  were  weak  as  a  cat;  but  I  guess 
you  picked  me  up  Hke  a  pillow  and  tucked  me  into  that 
bunk.    You're  strong  !'' 

He  swept  his  eyes  over  the  littered  cabin  and  then 
brought  his  gaze  back  to  her  face.  Something  of  the  chill, 
untouched  forest  was  in  it;  something  of  the  sunless 
vitality  of  the  firs.  Deeper  than  all,  lay  her  wordless 
appeal  to  him,  the  cry  of  her  pure  heart  for  a  mate  who  was 
not  afraid,  who  could  take  a  place  beside  her  in  this  vast, 
shadowy  struggle.  As  he  slowly  comprehended  the  truth, 
his  thin  face  and  meagre  frame  took  on  strength  and 
fullness.  He  had  only  to  put  out  his  hand  and  take  hers. 
His  swift  imagination  brushed  in  the  picture  with  vivid 
strokes.  He  saw  himself  lean  forward.  He  felt  his  arms 
go  out  to  this  strong,  waking  woman. 

The  unsoftened  truth  struck  the  colors  from  his  sight. 
He  looked  at  Sally  with  dilated  eyes.  "I  ain't  up  to  it!" 
he  croaked.  "I  —  I'm  too  old.  I  ain't  man  enough! 
Lemme  go  back  to  my  claim!"  He  rose  to  his  feet.  A 
queer,  grim  smile  twisted  his  lips.  He  leaned  over  the 
passive  girl  and  patted  her  hand.  "I  guess  Old  Man 
Peterson's  claim  is  about  my  size,"  he  mumbled.  "Lim 
White  picks  his  party,  don't  he?" 

Sally's  face  suddenly  grew  ruddy.  She  seized  on  the 
humor  of  his  speech  with  a  relief  she  did  not  understand. 
"My  sakes!"  she  exclaimed.    "What  a  joker  you  are!" 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  51 

Spencer  covertly  glanced  at  her  several  times  while  he 
put  on  his  jacket  and  boots.  But  Sally's  eyes  were  veiled 
again.  The  impenetrability  of  the  forest  had  reasserted 
itself.  He  shook  her  hand  in  matter  of  fact  fashion. 
"Much  obliged  for  the  grub  and  the  help,"  he  said  simply. 
"I  was  about  all  in  when  you  found  me." 

"Going  back  to  the  claim?"   she  demanded. 

"  I  'm  goin'  to  Siletz,"  he  answered.  "  I  gotta  mail  these, 
letters,  you  know.    The  storm's  over." 

"The  storm's  over,"  she  assented,  gazing  at  the  tree- 
tops,  still  lively  in  the  wind.  "But  the  trail 's  bad.  And 
mind  the  river!" 

"I  guess  I'll  make  it  all  right,"  he  replied  cheerfully. 

As  he  turned  the  bend  in  the  trail,  he  looked  back. 
Sally  stood  by  the  leaning  doorway  of  the  wrecked  cabin, 
and  waved  her  hand  to  him.  He  returned  her  gesture  and 
plodded  on.  Stumbling  up  the  ascent  to  the  crest  of  the 
hill,  he  stopped  to  breathe.  "I'm  old,"  he  muttered  to 
himself.  "But  I'd  like  to  ha'  married  her!"  His  re- 
nunciation, fully  comprehended,  staggered  him.  He 
turned  his  pinched  face  to  the  clouded  sky.  "I  —  I  ain't 
much,"  he  confessed  simply.  "But  I  get  it  in  the  neck 
every  time.  But  it  would  n't  be  fair  to  the  gell!  And 
she's  —  she's  a  fine,  good  gell!" 


CHAPTER  IV 

WHILE  Spencer  was  pursuing  his  rugged  way  to 
the  Agency,  from  which  the  great  Siletz  Reserva- 
tion gets  its  name,  Sally  McCarthy  was  busy  getting  the 
partially  ruined  cabin  into  habitable  shape.  The  fact 
that  it  still  rained  heavily,  with  frequent  spurts  of  sleet, 
did  not  deter  her.  She  wielded  the  ax  till  she  had  cut 
two  new  posts  for  the  doorway,  installed  them  capably, 
and  then  took  her  frow  and  mallet  to  the  shake-tree 
where  she  split  enough  shakes  to  repair  the  roof.  It  was 
late  afternoon  when  she  finished  and  had  cleared  away 
the  rubbish.  By  that  time  the  rain  had  ceased  and  the 
stream  that  tumbled  down  hill  behind  the  cabin  was  sub- 
siding to  its  usual  trickle.  Sally  observed  this  and  fell 
into  revery.  "I'll  bet  the  Siletz  is  booming,"  she  said  to 
herself.  "And  Spencer  will  have  the  time  of  his  life  get- 
ting across."  She  threw  her  broom  into  the  house  and  sat 
down  on  the  bench,  careless  of  the  wet.  Her  face  flushed 
and  her  lips  parted.    Then  she  rocked  forward,  sobbing. 

She  had  no  mother.  A  childhood  passed  in  rough  sur- 
roundings, a  girlhood  burdened  with  hard  tasks,  no  com- 
panionship and  uncomprehended  loneliness  had  suddenly 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  53 

passed  her  on  into  womanhood.  Behind  her  she  dimly 
felt  the  dull  shadows  of  toil,  ignorance  and  poverty.  She 
had  never  actually  recognized  her  distaste  for  it.  An  un- 
reasoning hope  that  all  this  would  end  happily  had  kept 
her  cheerful  and  wholesome.  But  the  past  weeks  had 
awakened  in  her  something  that  rebelled  against  the  sor- 
did burdens  she  bore.  She  saw  in  a  new  light  her  father's 
weakness  and  selfishness.  She  mistily  understood  why 
her  mother  had  died.  She  needed  strength  to  lean  upon, 
somebody  to  soothe  her,  to  comfort  her,  to  take  her  up 
from  her  dark  and  neglected  girlhood  and  show  her  the 
way  out  into  the  world.  So  she  sobbed,  because  she  had 
no  mother;  the  shameless,  choking,  agonizing  sobs  of 
lonely  womanhood. 

When  Lim  White  tramped  out  of  the  dusk  of  the 
darkening  timber  to  the  McCarthy  cabin  door  a  woman 
met  him.  His  shifty  eyes  rested  on  her  a  moment, 
puzzled.  "My  sakesT*  she  said  clearly.  "Is  that  you, 
Mr.  White?" 

He  swung  his  pack  off  his  shoulders  and  entered.  "It's 
me,"  he  said  slowly. 

"Where's  Dad?"  she  inquired. 

"He  went  to  Toledo,"  he  replied,  shaking  the  drops 
from  his  hat.    "He  said  he'd  be  back  tomorrow." 

Sally  sniffed.  "What  does  he  s'pose  I'm  doing  all 
these  storms?"  she  demanded. 


54  THELANDCLAIMERS 

White  smiled  slightly.  "That's  what  I  told  him/'  he 
said.  "He  would  n't  come,  so  I  decided  I'd  better  come 
and  stay  with  you.    Were  you  afraid  last  night?  " 

She  laughed.     "Ever  see  me  afraid?" 

He  gazed  admiringly  at  her.  "No,  I  never  did.  I  wish 
sometimes  you  were  afraid." 

A  question  was  on  her  lips,  but  she  did  not  utter  it. 
Instead  she  smiled  again  and  said,  "Hungry?" 

While  she  prepared  the  meal.  White  sat  in  the  shadow 
and  watched  her.  Contrary  to  his  custom,  he  did  not 
smoke  but  merely  stared  ahead.  If  Sally  noticed  this 
she  made  no  remark  until  supper  was  on  the  table.  Then 
she  looked  over.  "Come  on,"  she  said  briefly.  "Your 
supper  is  ready." 

"It  did  n't  take  you  long,"  he  observed. 

She  handed  him  a  plate  of  biscuits.  "  I  did  n't  want  to 
keep  you  too  late  on  the  trail,"  she  replied.  "It's  five 
miles  anyway  to  the  Walterses,  and  it's  going  to  be 
pretty  dark." 

He  stared  at  her,  fork  upraised.  "I  was  figuring  on 
staying  here  to-night,"  he  mumbled. 

"That's  awfully,  kind,"  she  answered.  "But  I  don't 
need  you.  Dad  will  be  along  to-morrow  and  I  can  get 
through  to-night  all  right.    Have  some  coffee?  " 

He  gazed  furtively  at  her,  but  said  nothing  till  he  had 
eaten  his  fill.    Pushing  back  his  plate  he  pulled  out  his 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS  55^ 

pipe  and  lit  it.  "I'll  make  up  my  bed  on  the  floor/'  he 
said  abruptly.  "Then  if  your  father  comes  along  in  the 
night  he  can  have  his  bed." 

"I  thought  you  said  he  was  not  coming  until  to-mor- 
row," she  responded. 

"He  might  come  to-night,  though  it  isn't  likely,"  he 
said,  with  curtness.  "You  know  your  old  man.  Never 
can  tell  when  he'll  turn  up." 

Sally  sniffed.  "  Don't  worry  about  me,"  she  remarked, 
taking  his  dishes  off  the  table.  "You  just  toddle  on  your 
way.    I  ain't  afraid." 

White's  eyes  narrowed.  "The  trail  ain't  in  fit  shape  to 
travel  by  dark,"  he  said  quietly.  "I  told  your  father  I'd 
stay  here  to-night." 

She  appeared  deaf.  True,  she  glanced  out  the  window 
and  saw  that  it  was  already  dark.  But  she  turned  and 
took  up  his  pack  and  held  it  out.  "Let  me  help  you  on 
with  it,"  she  said  calmly. 

He  thrust  his  chair  back  with  one  impulse  of  his  leg 
and  laughed.  "I  think  I'll  stay,  Sally,"  he  said.  "I 
really  could  n't  leave  you  alone  to-night.  You're  actually 
pretty.    You've  grown  a  lot  lately." 

She  hesitated.  He  did  not  divine  her  thoughts.  The 
hospitality  of  the  timber,  which  demanded  that  she  wel- 
come him  to  a  night's  lodging,  was  somehow  made  void 
by  an  unformulated  distaste  to  his  presence.     Custom 


56  THELANDCLAIMERS 

was  strong  upon  her;  more  than  that,  she  knew  what 
would  be  said  if  she  refused  to  harbor  a  traveler.  And 
the  most  experienced  timberman  did  not  use  the  trails 
after  nightfall.  But  his  smile  forced  her  decision.  She 
swung  the  pack  up  to  him. 

He  pushed  it  aside,  laughing.  "Look  here,  girl,"  he 
said  soothingly,  "  you  are  n't  going  to  put  me  out  on  the 
trail  a  night  like  this.     I'd  lose  my  way." 

The  last  word  died  on  his  lips  and  his  smile  faded. 
Something  in  Sally's  manner  announced  that  a  new 
period  had  arrived.  He  tried  to  laugh  again,  and  failed. 
Her  calm  face  enraged  him.  For  the  first  time  in  their 
acquaintance  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  animal  beneath 
his  studied  pose.  His  lips  drew  back  slightly  from  his 
teeth,  and  he  put  out  a  wiry  hand  and  clutched  her  arm. 
"I  think  I'll  stay,"  he  said  tensely.  "You're  too  nice  a 
girl  to  be  rude,  Sally." 

She  shook  his  grasp  off  with  a  strong  twist  of  her  fore- 
arm, and  this  time  it  was  she  that  smiled.  "My  sakes!" 
she  said  coldly.  "Is  that  the  way  you  ask  for  lodgings? 
What  manners!"     She  lit  the  lamp. 

White  reached  out  both  arms.  "Look  here,"  he  per- 
suaded. "I've  wanted  a  chance  to  talk  to  you  for  a  long 
time,  Sally.    I  mean  it." 

He  thrust  himself  forward  but  she  escaped  him.  His 
voice  dropped  a  couple  of  notes.     "See  here,  Sally,"  he 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  57 

pleaded,  controlling  himself  with  apparent  effort,  "I  was 
talking  to  your  father  about  you.  I  have  something  to 
say." 

She  looked  at  him  calmly.  "YouVe  got  to  go  away,** 
she  said  firmly.    "I  won't  talk  to  you  to-night." 

He  scanned  her  for  an  instant's  hesitation  or  faltering. 
But  she  kept  her  gray  eyes  upon  his,  and  her  tones  were 
clear.  "You  had  better  understand,  Mr.  White,"  she 
continued,  "  I  'm  going  to  throw  you  out  if  you  don't  go." 

He  laughed  jubilantly.  "Try  it!"  he  roared,  and 
plunged  across  the  room  towards  her. 

He  brought  himself  up  with  an  oath.  The  blade  of 
an  ax  glittered  above  the  girl's  head.  She  faced  him, 
head  thrown  back,  shoulders  tense,  one  booted  foot  in 
advance  of  the  other.  In  her  eyes  he  saw  a  sudden,  cold 
passion  that  withered  his  heart.  He  essayed  to  retreat, 
but  the  table  was  in  his  way.  As  he  edged  along  it,  his 
voice  rose  shrilly.  "Don't  do  it,  Sally!  Don't  do  it!  I 
just  wanted  to  tell  you  I  loved  you  and  wanted  you  to 
marry  me!" 

His  harsh  tones  merged  in  the  creak  of  the  opening 
door.  McCarthy,  blinking  in  the  light,  stood  like  a 
statue  at  the  entrance,  taking  in  with  swift  glances  the 
scene  he  had  broken  in  upon.  But  he  said  nothing, 
though  White,  afraid  to  take  his  eyes  from  the  gleaming 
weapon  over  his  head,  flung  out  wild  gestures  of  pleading 


58  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

for  an  intercessor.  Whether  he  knew  or  did  not  know 
that  it  was  the  girl's  father  who  had  opened  the  door,  he 
dared  not  turn  his  head.  Sally,  flashing  one  look  upon 
her  parent,  let  the  ax  descend  an  inch.  There  it  swayed 
slightly,  delicately  poised,  flashing  softly  in  the  lamp's 
light. 

The  old  man  drew  his  left  foot  over  the  threshold  and 
still  uttered  no  sound.  His  shrewd  eyes  comprehended 
his  daughter's  attitude,  the  defencelessness  of  the  man. 
Had  she  already  struck  —  once?  With  a  slow  expiration 
of  his  breath  he  seemed  to  settle  into  repose,  hand  on  the 
door-latch;  his  wet  face  fell  into  studied  expressionless- 
ness.    He  waited. 

In  the  silence  that  enveloped  them.  White  breathed 
heavily.  His  right  hand,  with  which  he  had  vainly 
signaled  behind  his  back  for  help,  was  drawn  up  to  his 
hip.  His  parted  lips  slowly  took  on  a  bluish  tinge.  He 
aged,  moment  by  moment.  Extreme  decrepitude  took 
the  place  of  wild  passion.  He  seemed  to  shrink,  to  become 
thin,  pinched.  His  husky  voice  croaked  into  the  stillness 
of  the  room.     "I  was  in  fun." 

Seizing  her  victory  on  the  instant,  Sally  flashed  a  smile 
upon  him,  portentous,  overmastering.  "My  sakes!" 
she  said  clearly.  "What  a  joke!"  The  ax  flashed  down- 
ward. White,  stooping,  holding  his  hands  above  his 
head,  ran  blindly  across  the  room  as  McCarthy  stepped 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  59 

silently  out  of  his  path,  and  disappeared  into  the  darkness 
without.  Sally  recovered  the  ax  easily  and  threw  it  into 
the  corner.  "Hello,  Dad,''  she  said  coolly.  "Want  some 
supper?  " 

The  old  man  nodded  and  closed  the  door.  As  he  took 
off  his  pack,  his  daughter  put  the  frying-pan  on  the  stove 
again  and  opened  a  tin  of  fruit.  "That  White  is  too 
fresh,"  she  remarked. 

McCarthy,  seated  at  the  table,  scowled  at  his  food. 
He  seemed  on  the  point  of  saying  something.  But  he 
ate  in  silence.  Then,  filling  his  pipe,  he  looked  up.  "I 
wisht  ye'd  hit  him,"  he  said  obscurely. 

Sally's  face  darkened.  "That  was  only  a  joke,"  she 
said  tartly. 

Her  father  frowned.  "  Lim  White  don't  take  jokes  — 
like  that,"  he  said  harshly.  He  paused,  then  continued: 
"He'll  make  trouble  for  us." 

Sally  rattled  the  dishes  in  the  pan  before  answering. 
Then  she  sniffed. 

"He'll  make  trouble,"  McCarthy  repeated  morosely. 
"That's  the  kind  of  fellow  Lim  is." 

"  I  ain't  afraid  of  him,"  she  remarked. 

Her  father  got  up  and  crossed  the  room  for  a  match. 
"We  ain't  in  any  shape  to  fight  him,"  he  growled.  "He'll 
go  to  the  Gov'nment,  and  then  we'll  be  in  a  fix." 

Sally  whirled  round  to  stare  at  her  father.     "You 


60  THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

haven't  gone  and  witnessed  for  Lim  White  again,  have 
you?"  she  demanded. 

McCarthy  stirred  himself  to  wrath.  "What  business 
is  it  of  yours?"  he  raged.  "I  guess  I  know  niy  own  busi- 
ness.   But  you  keep  clear  of  gettin'  Lim  mad." 

The  old  man  suddenly  found  himself  in  a  new  position. 
His  daughter  was  staring  at  him  with  dry,  burning  eyes. 
The  verdict  he  read  in  them  was  a  blow  to  his  lifelong 
sense  of  superiority  to  his  family.  He  winced  and  shook 
his  head.  "If  it  wan't  a  joke,"  he  mumbled,  "of  course 
I  don't  hold  with  Lim.  But  Lim  'ud  know  better  'n  to 
speak  to  my  daughter  anyway  but  in  a  joke." 

Sally's  eyes  fell.  "Of  course  it  was  a  joke,"  she  an- 
swered quietly. 

Her  father,  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  silent  smok- 
ing, went  outside.  He  came  in  again  to  say,  "Lim  's 
gone  up  the  trail,  I  guess.  Pretty  dark,  too."  Then  he 
betook  himself  to  bed,  mumbling  something  about  being 
tired  out.  When  he  was  asleep,  peaked  face  to  the  rafters, 
Sally  slipped  out  of  the  door  into  the  night.  An  hour 
later  she  came  in  again,  face  swollen  with  crying.  But 
her  hour  of  soHtude  had  strengthened  her.  Her  glance 
rested  with  pity  on  the  old  man.  Then  it  took  in  the  in- 
terior of  the  shabby  cabin.  "I've  got  to  keep  Dad  out 
of  trouble,"  she  whispered  to  herself.  Against  this  re- 
solve she  set  another.    "I'm  done  with  Lim  White.    He 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  61 

thought  I  was  a  chicken.    He'll  find  out  Tm  grown  up 
and  can  take  care  of  myself." 

But  as  sleep  approached  and  she  suddenly  saw  a  vision 
of  an  ax  whirling  forward  from  her  hand  against  a  man's 
snarling  face,  she  shivered  and  buried  her  head  under  the 
blankets  in  a  very  panic  of  fear.  She  wished  for  Spencer's 
smiling,  assured  face.  He  would  protect  her,  though  she 
did  not  know  how.  Then  she  blushed  in  the  darkness 
and  was  asleep  before  the  color  died  from  her  cheek. 


CHAPTER  V 

SPENCER  tramped  the  ten  miles  to  the  Agency, 
mailed  his  letters,  spent  the  night  at  the  wretched 
hotel  and  returned  to  his  homestead  the  next  day.  He 
passed  McCarthy's  in  the  afternoon.  Sally  was  not 
visible  and  he  did  not  stop.  As  he  neared  his  own  place, 
the  rain,  which  had  held  off  a  few  horn's,  commenced  to 
descend  once  more.  He  reached  his  cabin  wet  through 
and  weary  beyond  expression.  But  his  temper  was  more 
cheerful.  He  was  in  no  perplexity  as  to  what  he  must  do. 
The  next  morning  he  began  a  rigid  course  of  training. 
Of  this  a  principal  part  was  kitchen  labor,  with  the  result 
that  he  accumulated  the  following  week  a  store  of  eata- 
bles of  varying  digestibility.  By  the  use  of  his  rifle,  he 
gathered  enough  game  to  salt  down  a  kegful.  A  deer 
which  he  shot  down  the  canyon  furnished  him  with  fresh 
meat,  which  he  ate  half  raw,  after  the  recipe  of  the  old- 
school  fighting  man. 

I  The  effect,  if  not  startling,  was  calculable.  Each  morn- 
ing found  him  a  little  fresher,  his  muscles  a  little  stronger, 
his  vitality  increased.    Though  his  face  did  not  fill  out. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  63 

Spencer  knew  he  was  gaining  weight,  and  rejoiced.  Two 
weeks  later,  when  the  packer  footed  it  from  McCarthy's 
with  a  letter,  Spencer  received  him  with  a  gust  of  chaff- 
ing and  good-humored  jesting  that  was  soon  to  lead  to 
the  report  along  the  trail  that  he  was  "queer/* 

The  packer  gone,  he  took  the  letter  into  the  shanty 
and  opened  it  with  a  case-knife.  He  read  it  without 
difficulty. 

Wallingford,  Ont., 

Dec.  11,  1906. 
S.  Spencer,  Esq., 

Siletz,  Oregon. 
Dear  Sir,  —  My  mother  has  spoken  of  you  and  your 
knowing  my  father.  While  I  have  not  heard  from  her  I'm 
sure  she  would  approve  of  my  accepting  your  kind  offer  and 
I  shall  start  for  Oregon  on  the  C.  P.  R.  next  Saturday.  As 
far  as  I  can  find  out  I  ought  to  reach  Siletz  by  Monday  next, 
two  days  before  Christmas. 

I  shall  hope  to  fill  my  duties  with  you  acceptably  and  prove 
a  good  assistant  to  you  as  well  as  a  satisfaction  to  my  mother, 
who  I  know  sets  a  good  deal  of  store  by  my  getting  along. 

If  you  could  have  somebody  meet  me  at  Siletz,  a  guide  or 
somebody,  I  will  go  right  to  your  ranch. 

Very  truly  yours, 

Harold  T.  Marini. 

Spencer  sat  with  the  letter  in  his  hand.  He  meditated 
for  a  long  time.  Then,  by  the  aid  of  an  almanac,  he 
figured  the  date  of  the  young  man's  arrival.  At  the  end 
of  an  hour  he  considered  it  settled  that  he  would  have 


64  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

to  be  at  the  Agency  the  day  following,  if  he  were  to  meet 
the  stage  from  Toledo.  "I  gotta  start  at  daylight,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "I  guess  I  better  clean  things  up  a 
little." 

In  the  waning  light  he  plunged  into  the  work  of  tidy- 
ing up  the  slovenly  cabin.  It  was  a  hard  task,  and  he 
had  to  confess,  two  hours  later,  that  his  efforts  had  been 
misdirected.  In  wrath  he  swore  that  the  youngster 
would  have  to  make  the  best  of  it.  Then  he  turned  into 
his  bunk  and  tumbled  about  till  four  o'clock.  He  ate  a 
cold  breakfast,  strapped  on  his  pack-sack  and  started 
out,  lantern  in  hand.  As  he  swung  into  the  main  trail  at 
McCarthy's,  he  saw  a  light  through  the  open  door.  He 
stopped  and  looked  in.  Sally  was  busy  over  the  stove; 
at  the  table  her  father  and  Lim  White  sat  earnestly  dis- 
cussing some  subject.  Unobserved,  Spencer  passed  on, 
his  lips  set  in  an  ugly  line. 

On  the  long,  rough  trail  to  the  Agency,  his  thoughts 
persisted  in  returning  to  one  matter  of  inward  debate: 
the  character  of  the  boy  he  was  to  meet.  He  tried  to 
recall  his  father's  face  and  form,  but  failed.  Only  the 
fair  and  roguish  countenance  of  Flossetta  Marini  came 
to  his  evocation  of  memory.  Dwelling  on  that,  Spencer 
revolved  many  things  in  his  mind.  He  saw  again  him- 
self, in  the  heyday  of  boisterous  youth;  he  viewed  the 
many-colored  picture  of  the  life  he  had  led  —  the  hard. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  65 

exacting,  dangerous,  care-free  existence  which  had  sud- 
denly lost  purposelessness  when  the  dashing,  wholesome- 
hearted  Flossetta  had  danced  into  his  dazzled  vision. 
She  was  the  real  lady.  He  had  worshipped  with  direct- 
ness. She  had  given  him  her  frank  friendship  —  and 
married  Hal  Marini,  the  debonair  and  worthless  fellow 
who  had  left  her  as  airily  as  he  had  married  her.  Spencer 
summed  up  all  his  knowledge  and  experience  of  her  in 
the  muttered  phrase,  "She  was  a  good  gell!" 

When  he  reached  the  river,  roaring  over  the  riffles  laden 
with  the  rains  of  yesterday,  he  got  upon  the  crazy  ferry. 
While  crossing,  he  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  fit  of  in- 
tense embarrassment.  He  almost  turned  back.  Walking 
up  the  road  across  the  fields  to  the  post-office  he  fumed. 
"I  dunno  what  to  say  to  the  kid,"  he  murmured. 

Harold  Marini,  one  eye  on  his  little  luggage  and 
the  other  on  the  vile  road  which  he  had  just  come  from 
Toledo,  was  thinking  thoughts  quite  different.  No  doubt 
existed  in  his  mind  as  to  his  reception  or  the  success  he 
was  to  enjoy  in  his  new  life.  He  received  the  information 
tendered  him  by  the  stage  driver  with  some  condescen- 
sion, his  mind  persistently  portraying  scenes  of  bril- 
liancy in  which  he  eclipsed  all  the  matter-of-fact  plodders 
of  the  frontier.  The  picturesque  setting  of  the  Indian 
Agency  did  not  waken  more  than  passing  interest,  and 
when  he  found,  on  inquiry,  that  S.  Spencer's  place  lay 


66  THELANDCLAIMERS 

some  ten  or  eleven  miles  across  the  river  he  did  not  hesi- 
tate, after  brief  questions  as  to  the  general  route,  to  leave 
his  trunk  at  the  store  in  charge  of  the  packer,  who  prom- 
ised to  bring  it  in  when  the  trail  was  better,  and  start  off 
with  his  suit-case.  Consequently,  when  he  met  a  small, 
dark,  oldish  man  trudging  up  from  the  ferry,  he  nodded 
good-humoredly  and  was  about  to  pass  on. 

But  Spencer,  for  he  it  was,  did  not  miss  the  initials  on 
the  suit-case  and  rightly  read  "H.  T.  M.''  to  mean  Hal 
Marini.  With  some  difficulty  he  managed  to  halt  the 
young  man.  Then  he  took  off  his  hard  felt  hat,  wiped 
his  forehead  and  stared  at  the  newcomer  with  many  mis- 
givings. "Are  you  lookin'  for  Sim  Spencer?"  he  said 
awkwardly. 

The  young  man  nodded.  "That's  where  I'm  bound," 
he  answered.     "About  ten  miles,  is  n't  it?" 

Spencer  swallowed.  "About  that,"  he  said  briefly. 
"  Did  n't  you  expect  to  meet  him?  " 

"I  really  don't  know,"  was  the  rather  impatient 
reply. 

"I  think  he  intended  to  meet  you,"  Spencer  said,  with 
still  greater  difficulty.  "But  of  course  he'll  be  glad  to  see 
you.     I  was  coming  to  meet  you  myself." 

This  seemed  to  astonish  Marini  somewhat  and  he 
stared.  Spencer  felt  that  he  must  say  something  defi- 
nite.   "You  would  n't  know  me,  of  course,"  he  went  on. 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS  67 

"You  ain't  seen  me  since  you  was  a  little  feller.  But"  — 
he  strove  for  a  pleasant  falsehood  —  "I  guess  I *d  know 
Hal  Marini  anywhere." 

Harold  Marini  shook  the  offered  hand,  and  his  face 
expressed  many  emotions.  Fearful  that  the  young  man 
would  say  something  embarrassing  to  both,  Spencer  set 
his  hat  firmly  on  his  head  and  went  on :  "I  was  just  com- 
ing in  to  meet  you.  But  I  knew  you  the  minute  you 
came  round  the  corner.  Well,  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  But 
this  is  a  rough  country,  and  I  don't  know  how  you'll  like 
it.  If  you  don't  cotton  to  it,  why,  no  harm's  done.  We'll 
see  if  we  can't  locate  you  somewhere  else." 

By  this  time  Hal  had  recovered  the  use  of  his  wits. 
He  smiled  and  tried  to  express  his  sense  of  obligation. 
"By  Jove,  it  was  good  of  you  to  send  for  me,"  he  said 
rapidly. 

"I  dunno,"  Spencer  answered  slowly.  "It's  awful 
rough  country.  Now  you're  used  to  better  things. 
Mebbe  you  better  not  tackle  it." 

As  he  said  this,  he  viewed  the  other's  inches  with  ap- 
proval. Mentally,  he  made  a  note  that  he  carried  his 
hands  too  high  and  did  n't  get  the  full  swing  of  the  arm. 
But,  all  in  all,  the  impression  of  cleanness,  of  good  health, 
of  steady  nerves,  of  youth,  pleased  him.  He  warmed 
slightly.  "But  it  ain't  so  bad,  after  all,"  he  pursued,  not 
observing  his  companion's  efforts  to   speak.     "And   I 


68  THELANDCLAIMERS 

ain't  goin'  to  let  you  strike  out  again  till  you  see  my 
claim.  It's  got  timber  on  it  that's  worth  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars  cold.  Lots  of  'em  round  here;  we'll  fix  you 
up  with  one.  Then  what '11  your  mother  say?"  He 
beamed. 

"I  say,  that  sounds  pretty  fine,"  was  the  response. 
'* Don't  worry  about  me,  Mr.  Spencer.  I'm  tough  as  a 
knot.    I'll  enjoy  it,  I  tell  you." 

Spencer's  thin  cheeks  glowed.  "That's  the  talk,"  he 
said  quickly.  "And  I'm  glad  you've  come.  I've  got 
lots  for  you  to  do."  He  stopped  suddenly,  doubtfully. 
"You  may  n't  want  to  do  'em,"  he  went  on,  less  heartily. 
"But  they  gotta  be  done!" 

He  picked  up  the  suit-case  and  started  on  down 
towards  the  ferry.  Marini  followed  him.  As  he  trudged 
down  the  rough  road,  the  stranger's  spirits  sank.  The 
small,  weazened  man  ahead  of  him  did  not  meet  with  his 
preconceptions  of  the  Sim  Spencer  his  mother  had  written 
about  gushingly  some  years  before.  Somehow  he  did  not 
fit  in  with  the  picture  of  his  lovely  and  famous  mother, 
moving  amid  fine  people,  delicately  dressed,  living  in  a 
perfumed,  tempered  atmosphere.  To  his  eye,  Spencer 
was  coarse,  uncultivated,  uncouth,  even  (he  hardly  ad- 
mitted to  himself)  "tough."  While  they  passed  on  down 
to  the  shining  river,  he  was  half  of  a  mind  to  stop  and 
call  the  bargian  oE  on  the  spot.     But  then  —  it  was  a 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  69 

bargain,  —  even  a  kindness.  He  grimaced  at  the  back 
of  his  benefactor. 

The  ferryman  nodded  to  Spencer  with  a  curt  "Find 
him  already?"  and  pushed  off  into  the  stream.  Spencer 
set  the  suit-case  down,  and  Hal  promptly  seated  himself 
on  it.  The  current  caught  the  unwieldy  scow  and  it 
tugged  at  its  cable.  Marini  stared  up-stream  at  the 
river  tossing  between  its  rugged  banks,  and  then  at  his 
companion.  In  this  closer  scrutiny  he  saw  more  clearly 
than  ever  that  his  employer  was  a  queer  stick.  The 
peaked  features,  hollow  cheeks  and  meagre  frame  did 
not  fit  into  the  scenery  of  green  mountains,  rugged  hills 
and  rushing  river.  He  thought  he  detected  on  the  ferry- 
man's saturnine  countenance  a  sort  of  simple  contempt 
for  Spencer.  He  resented  it.  And  experiencing  that 
feeling,  meeting  Spencer's  dark  eyes,  he  felt  suddenly 
drawn  to  him  in  a  generous  impulse  of  his  youth.  He 
smiled,  nodding  at  him.    "By  Jove!  this  is  great!" 

The  elder  smiled  in  answer.  "We  live  in  the  timber," 
he  said;  "right  in  the  woods.  You'll  find  it  kinda 
lonesome." 

"How's  the  trail?"  the  ferryman  put  in  abruptly. 
"Wild  Bill  tells  me  it's  in  bad  shape." 

"None  so  good,"  admitted  Spencer,  with  a  faint  air  of 
connoisseurship.     "But  it's  been  worse." 

The   man  nodded,  gazing  over  his  shoulder   at  the 


70  THELANDCLAIMERS 

shore  they  had  left.  "It's  a  fright,  I'll  bet,"  he  said 
briefly. 

Hal  took  it  up.  "That  road  in  from  Toledo!"  he  ex- 
claimed. "I  thought  we'd  never  get  through.  I  was 
sure  we'd  spill!" 

"Did  n't  you?"  asked  the  ferryman,  simply. 

"No,  but  I  walked  a  ways." 

Spencer  wagged  his  head.  "You'll  get  used  to  it," 
he  said.  "I  thought  I  never  would.  But  then  it's 
different  when  you  got  a  claim  and  have  an  interest 
in  things." 

"You  got  the  Old  Peterson  place?"  the  ferryman  de- 
manded brutally. 

Spencer  flushed.  "Yes."  He  looked  appealingly 
at  the  young  man.  "They  make  fun  of  me,"  he  said 
humorously. 

Again  the  sudden  impulse  to  protect  took  hold  of  the 
other,  and  he  nodded.  "We'll  see,"  he  affirmed  w^armly. 
"There  are  two  of  us,  now." 

The  tone  caught  the  ferryman's  ear.  He  scanned  the 
young  man's  clean  bulk  with  new  interest.  "You  going 
on  Peterson's  claim?" 

Hal  nodded.  The  ferryman  looked  blank;  then  he 
shook  his  head.  "Lim  White  is  pretty  smart,  they  say," 
he  remarked.  As  the  scow  scraped  upon  the  shingle,  he 
stared  at  his  passengers.    "I  dunno,"  he  said,  apparently 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS  71 

to  himself,  and  stared  after  them  as  they  climbed  up  the 
bank  to  the  road.  When  they  vanished  he  shook  his 
head  again.  "Lim's  missed  fire  somewheres,"  he  mut- 
tered. His  face  brightened  as  he  set  out  for  the  other 
shore. 

The  two  men  traveled  along  the  road  for  a  short  dis- 
tance. Then  they  left  the  mire  and  crossed  a  swamp, 
stepping  from  tussock  to  tussock,  resting  at  times  on 
the  bulk  of  a  log.  The  other  side  of  this  they  crossed  a 
stream  on  a  fallen  cedar,  and  started  up  the  steep  face 
of  a  hill.  Hal  Marini  found  himself  getting  ashamed. 
Spencer,  with  a  certain  clumsy  ease,  made  little  of  the 
rough  going,  but  he  was  carrying  the  suit-case,  strapped 
on  top  of  his  pack.  When  they  paused  for  breath,  the 
young  man  saw  that  his  companion  was  becoming  ex- 
hausted. He  wished  to  take  the  load  himself,  but  he  did 
not  know  how  to  announce  the  fact  that  he  feared  the 
big,  greasy  straps  would  spoil  his  coat.  So  he  was  grate- 
ful when  Spencer,  sitting  on  a  big  root,  sighed  and  re- 
marked: "I  don't  see  how  we're  goin'  to  get  this  valise 
in  much  further.  We  ain't  struck  the  rough  part  of  the 
trail  yet." 

"It's  awfully  heavy,"  Hal  explained.  "I  stuck  a  lot 
of  clothes  in  it  and  then  filled  it  up  with  books.  Thought 
you  might  n't  have  many  books  out  here." 

"  That 's  right,  we  have  n't  any.    But  if  we  can  only 


72  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

get  it  to  McCarthy's,  we  can  leave  it  there  and  come 
back  after  it.  McCarthy's  is  only  a  mile  from  my 
claim." 

"I  can  get  some  clothes  out  to  wear,"  Hal  suggested. 

Spencer  observed  the  young  man's  neat  suit,  his  soft 
felt  hat  and  heavy  shoes.  "Yer  hat  and  shoes  is  all  to 
the  good,"  he  remarked.  "But  overhauls  and  a  blue 
shirt '11  beat  the  rest  of  it." 

"I've  got  a  blue  flannel  shirt  in  the  suit-case,"  he  said. 
"I've  got  a  pair  of  corduroy  trousers  in  there,  too,  just 
for  this." 

Spencer  meditated.  "Mebbe  you  better  get  them  on 
right  away,"  he  said  presently. 

The  change  was  made,  and  they  pursued  their  toilsome 
way  to  the  crest  of  the  hill.  Thence  their  road  led  de- 
viously through  a  slender  park  of  chittim  and  alder, 
dipped  down  through  a  canyon's  head  and  plunged  into 
the  dark  gloom  of  the  forest.  Now  and  then  there  opened 
before  the  young  man's  weary  eyes  a  vista  of  the  inter- 
minable and  profound  timber,  stretching  suddenly  away 
to  the  remote  and  dim  horizon.  Once,  from  the  huge 
shoulder  of  a  hill,  he  saw  below  him  the  dark  green  of 
some  valley,  a  waving  lake  of  tree  crests,  dotted  by  the 
towering  spikes  of  dead  cedars  that  rose  gray  and  wan 
out  of  the  depths  of  vegetation.  Twice  Spencer  halted 
him  to  look  at  a  blaze  on  a  tree.    "This  is  a  corner,"  he 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  73 

affirmed.  "It's  one  township  this  side,  another  township 
the  other."  And  Hal,  staring  up  at  the  dull  yellow  mark 
on  the  tree,  hearing  no  sound  but  the  whisper  of  the  firs, 
seeing  nothing  but  the  profound  shadow  of  the  forest, 
wondered  and  gained  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  the  vastness  of 
the  wilderness  where  great  divisions  were  marked  by 
rough  cuttings  on  the  heavy  bark  of  a  lonely  tree. 

Two  hours  later  Sally,  splitting  wood  in  front  of  her 
father's  cabin,  saw  two  men  coming  along  the  trail  from 
the  Agency.  She  immediately  decided  that  the  younger 
one,  in  a  clean  flannel  shirt  and  easy  tan  shoes,  must  be  a 
cruiser  of  one  of  the  big  companies.  The  fact  that  he 
carried  a  suit-case  on  his  back  amused  her.  She  leaned 
on  her  ax  and  watched  them  wind  through  the  brush. 
When  she  recognized  Spencer,  she  pursed  her  lips  and 
then  relaxed  them  in  a  smile.  "  I  just  hope  he  has  got  a 
friend  in  a  big  company,"  she  said  to  herself.  "Then 
he'll  show  Lim  a  thing  or  two." 

As  they  came  up,  Spencer  lifted  his  hat.  "Hello,  Miss 
McCarthy !    How 's  the  biscuits?  " 

"Baking,"  she  replied.  "Had  anything  to  eat  this 
week  at  your  place?" 

He  grinned.  "I'm  just  takin'  in  my  new  pardner,"  he 
announced.  "Miss  Sally,  shake  hands  with  Hal  Marini. 
Hal,  this  is  Miss  Sally  McCarthy.  She  makes  the  best 
biscuits  in  the  Siletz." 


74  THELANDCLAIMERS 

The  young  man  took  off  his  hat  and  stepped  forward. 
Sally  put  out  her  firm,  cool  hand  and  shook  his  hospi- 
tably, but  her  eyes  sought  the  face  of  the  older.  He  met 
her  glance  squarely.  "He  has  me  beat,  has  n't  he?"  he 
laughed.    "I  guess  he's  got  the  weight,  all  right." 

Hal  stared  politely  and  then  picked  up  the  suit-case. 
Spencer  shook  his  head.  "We'll  leave  it  here,"  he  said. 
"Then  we'll  have  a  good  excuse  to  come  down  and  get 
a  square  meal." 

Sally  smiled.  "That's  right,"  she  said  genially.  "You 
boys  are  welcome  any  time."  She  caught  Spencer's  eye. 
"You  have  n't  been  around  lately,"  she  went  on. 

"I've  been  training,"  he  said  briefly.  "When  I 
come  round  I  like  to  be  able  to  stay,  no  matter  who's 
here." 

She  tossed  her  head  and  looked  at  his  companion. 
"You  better  come  in  and  have  a  bite,"  she  suggested. 
''Dad's  gone  to  Newport  to-day.  He  didn't  start  till 
late  because  the  tide  would  n't  be  low  till  afternoon." 
She  explained  to  Hal,  while  Spencer  lugged  the  suit-case 
into  the  cabin,  "  You  know  they  go  to  Newport  part  way 
on  the  beach,  and  we  have  to  watch  the  tides." 

Marini  was  interested  and  showed  it.  "I  never  had 
any  notion  of  what  was  out  here,"  he  said.  "You  know 
I'm  an  Easterner  and  all  this  is  new  to  me." 

"Raised  in  the  East,  Hal,  not  an  Easterner,"  corrected 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  75 

Spencer,  coming  back.  "His  mother  lives  in  California, 
Miss  Sally.    She's  a  famous  actress." 

Hal  winced,  ever  so  slightly.  Sally  noticed  it;  her  level 
gaze  traveled  curiously  from  the  young  man  to  the  elder. 
"Mr.  Spencer  never  told  me  you  were  coming,"  she 
remarked. 

"  'N'  I  wrote  the  letter  right  in  this  house,  too,"  Spencer 
returned.     "Gee!  what  a  stormy  night  that  was!" 

Hal's  look  of  inquiry  evoked  explanations  from  Sally. 
"I  was  all  alone  here,"  she  said,  "and  I  went  up  and 
fetched  Mr.  Spencer  over  to  stay  with  me.  After  we  were 
asleep  the  wind  blew  down  that  big  tree  lying  there,  and 
if  it  had  n't  been  for  him  I'd  have  gone  crazy,  I  guess." 
Her  warm  eyes  rested  on  Spencer. 

He  wagged  his  head.  "It  was  a  great  night,  you  bet. 
I  s'pose  next  time  you're  afraid,  you'll  be  askin'  Hal 
here  to  come  over  and  protect  you." 

She  replied  coldly:  "I  guess  not.  I'm  sort  of  par- 
ticular about  people  looking  after  me."  Thus  she  avenged 
herself  for  the  look  of  shocked  prudery  on  the  young  man's 
face.    "I  guess  the  grub  is  ready,"  she  went  on. 

They  filed  into  the  cabin  and  sat  down  at  the  table. 
Spencer  made  a  great  pretense  of  hunger,  but  in  reality 
ate  nothing.  Hal,  after  trying  politely  to  help  his  hostess 
serve  and  being  rebuffed,  settled  down  to  satisfy  a  good 
appetite.     Now  and  again  he  would  secretly  examine 


76  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

Spencer's  face,  with  occasional  glances  at  the  handsome 
girl  who  ignored  him  to  put  delicacies  in  front  of  the 
elder. 

Sally  spoke  up  tartly.  "You  ain't  eating  a  thing,  Mr. 
Spencer.    Why  don't  you  get  an  appetite?  " 

Spencer  mumbled  a  reply.  The  girl  turned  to  Hal. 
"You  better  look  after  him,"  she  warned.  "He  don't 
eat  enough  to  keep  a  wood-rat  alive.  And  if  he  don't  eat, 
he  won't  get  well." 

"I'm  all  right,"  Spencer  put  in  hastily.  "Don't  listen 
to  her,  Hal." 

"He  can't  even  cook!"  Sally  went  on. 

Marini  looked  puzzled.  "Cook!"  he  repeated.  "I 
did  n't  suppose  that  any  man  could  cook!" 

Sally  gazed  at  him  and  then  said  abruptly,  "Lim  White 
certainly  does  pick  his  party!" 

Spencer  glanced  at  her  pleadingly.  The  silent  reproof 
went  home  and  Sally  laughed,  a  trifle  loudly.  "My 
sakes!"  she  remarked.  "How  I  do  run  on!  I'll  bet  Mr. 
Marini  thinks  I  'm  the  Hmit.  But  then  I  'm  timber  bred. 
I  am  a  fright,  ain't  I?" 

Hal  met  her  eyes  frankly.  "I  guess  I'm  a  tenderfoot," 
he  admitted.  "But  if  I  can't  cook,  I  know  beauty  when 
I  see  it." 

Sally  blushed  and  then  was  furiously  angry  at  herself. 
She  ordered  them  to  leave,  and  they  departed,  laughing. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  77 

As  they  went  up  the  trail  in  the  chill  evening  twilight, 
she  stood  in  the  doorway  and  watched  them.  Spencer 
turned  once  to  wave  his  hand.  She  answered  gaily  enough, 
but  a  moment  later  she  was  explaining  to  her  cracked 
mirror  that  she  hated  both  him  and  his  companion  and 
the  timber  and  everybody  and  everything.  Then  she  went 
out  and  deliberately  flung  what  was  left  of  her  batch  of 
biscuits  into  the  brush,  stating  aloud  that  she  did  n*t 
wish  to  be  reminded  that  she  could  cook.  Half  an  hour 
later  the  cabin  was  swept  and  bare.  She  locked  the  door, 
put  the  ax  by  her  bedside  and  went  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WHILE  Sally  slept,  Spencer  sat  by  the  stove  in  his 
own  shack  and  explained  to  his  new  employe 
that  there  was  n't  much  to  do.  Every  now  and  then  he 
stopped  in  the  midst  of  his  uneasy  monologue  to  cough. 
"To  tell  the  God's  honest  truth,"  he  said  finally,  "I've 
got  several  things  I  want  you  to  do.  First,  you  must 
get  acquainted  with  the  country  and  the  way  they  do 
things.  Ye  see,  this  ain't  town,  nor  eastern  farm,  nor 
California  ranch.  This  is  Oregon  timber.  There  ain't 
any  money  in  making  gardens  or  raising  wheat  or  plant- 
ing fruit  trees.  All  the  money  is  just  in  timber.  And 
there's  lots  of  it.  I  dunno  just  how  much  we  got  on  this 
claim.    D'ye  s'pose  ye  could  measure  up  and  find  out?" 

Hal  elevated  his  stocking  feet  and  smiled.  "I  thought 
you  might  want  something  of  the  kind,"  he  answered. 
"So  I  spent  a  week  with  a  lumberman  I  know  in  Ontario 
and  I  guess  I  can  figure  out  how  much  your  trees  will 
scale." 

Spencer  nodded.  "They'll  do  you,  every  time,"  he 
went  on,  "unless  you  know  how  much  you've  got."  He 
suddenly  leaned  forward.     "I  ain't  told  anybody  round 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  79 

here,"  he  said  hesitatingly.  "But  I  guess  I  got  done  on 
this  claim.  At  least,  that's  the  talk  in  the  Siletz.  You 
heard  how  they  joshed  me? ' 

Hal  nodded. 

"I  wasn't  goin'  to  let  on  to  you  about  that,"  Spencer 
continued,  with  some  diflSdence.  "Usually  I  make  my 
own  bed  and  don't  kick  if  my  feet  get  cold.  I  ain't  kickin* 
any  now.  I  guess  this  claim '11  be  worth  a  good  twenty 
thousand,  all  right.  And  if  it  don't  scale  that,  I  want  to 
know.  I  kin  make  it  worth  that.  Just  lemme  get  my 
healt'  back." 

The  younger  man  watched  the  nervous  gestures,  the 
uneasy  movements,  the  shrewd  expressions  flitting  across 
Spencer's  face,  with  but  languid  interest.  He  did  not  know 
what  to  make  of  it  all.  But  his  next  two  months'  salary 
lay  in  his  pocket  in  the  shape  of  a  yellow-backed  hundred- 
dollar  bill.  He  had  tried  to  insist  that  he  had  not  earned 
it,  but  Spencer  had  persisted.  To  change  the  subject  he 
yawned  and  got  up.  "That's  a  queer  girl,  that  McCarthy 
girl,"  he  remarked.  "She'd  be  handsome  if  she  was 
taken  in  hand  and  dressed  and  educated.  I  suppose  she's 
as  ignorant  as  a  bird." 

Spencer  welcomed  the  opening,  and  with  the  siu'e  hand 
of  the  man  bred  to  deal  with  all  sorts  and  conditions  of 
men,  struck  straight  at  the  young  fellow's  interest.  "  She 's 
smarter  than  she  lets  on,"  he  said  carelessly.     "And  I 


80  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

would  n't  get  gay  round  her.  She'll  enjoy  making  a  fool 
of  you,  sure.  Then  the  whole  Siletz  Reservation  will 
laugh." 

Having  sowed  this  seed,  Spencer  went  to  bed.  He 
professed  not  to  hear  the  gentle  sniff  with  which  Hal 
greeted  his  advice,  and  resolutely  closed  his  eyes  to  the 
fact  that  before  retiring  the  young  man,  weary  as  he  was, 
shaved  himself.  He  apparently  roused  himself  with 
difficulty  a  half-hour  later  to  express  a  wish  that  they 
had  brought  the  suit-case  with  them.  "I  guess  you'll 
have  to  toddle  over  and  get  it  to-morrow,"  he  said  sleepily. 
"Too  bad,  too." 

"Don't  worry,"  Hal  responded.  "It  is  n't  far,  and  I'll 
fetch  it  the  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

He  woke  to  stretch  himself  and  sat  up  to  see  Spencer 
already  busy  over  the  stove.  He  called  out  good  morning, 
gathered  his  clothes  under  his  arm  and  dived  for  the  door. 
Spencer  watched  him  go  and  smiled.  When  Hal  returned, 
shivering  and  wet,  he  met  the  elder  man's  quizzical  look 
with  a  hearty,   "That  creek 's  cold,  all  right." 

"  I  used  to  be  after  me  morning  shower  myself,"  Spencer 
said.  "But  I  don't  do  it  any  more.  I  ain't  so  nifty  as  I 
used  to  be."    He  sighed. 

"I  see  you  can  make  biscuits,"  was  the  response.  "I 
can  eat  ten  of  them,  and  all  the  bacon  you  can  fry.  I 
wonder  what  that  girl  meant  by  her  remark  when  I  let 


THE  LAND    CLAIMERS  81 

out  that  I  could  n't  cook?    Something  about  'Lim  White 
picks  his  party. '  " 

"I  got  this  claim  from  White,"  Spencer  replied,  sitting 
down  at  the  table.  "Seems  he's  located  a  good  many  on 
this  propitty.  Most  of  'em  left  or  petered  out  some  way. 
And  —  " 

Hal  looked  across  interestedly.  "And  what?"  he 
demanded. 

"And  they  sort  of  think  Tm  in  the  same  class,"  Spencer 
finished  gloomily. 

This  remark  was  received  in  silence.  Breakfast  over, 
Hal  prepared  to  go  back  to  McCarthy's  for  the  suit-case. 
"I'll  get  it  and  then  I'll  be  ready  for  work,"  he  said. 

The  rain  drizzled  down  as  he  struck  into  the  creek 
bottom,  and  the  chill  of  the  air  made  him  draw  his  rain- 
coat closer  about  him.  As  he  trudged  along,  he  glanced 
around  with  curiosity.  The  huge  firs  seemed  to  please 
him.  Once  or  twice  he  stepped  out  of  the  trail  to  measure 
a  trunk  with  a  pocket  tape-line.  Each  time  he  would  look 
slowly  up  the  ponderous  shaft  of  the  tree  to  the  lacey 
crest,  above  which  clouds  floated  slowly  before  the  south 
wind.  While  the  rough  trail  wound  in  and  out  among 
the  knobs  and  knolls  hidden  in  brush  and  covered  with 
deep  moss,  he  observed  the  facility  with  which  his  feet 
found  each  step.  "  By  Jove ! "  he  said  to  himself  presently. 
"Now  who'd  have  thought  it?"    He  closed  his  eyes  to 


82  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

see  whether  he  could  still  follow  the  dim  trail  that  seemed 
so  easy.  He  stumbled  and  laughed  crestfallenly.  He  had 
discovered  (what  timbermen  find  out  at  night)  that  walk- 
ing is  half  seeing.  He  meditated  this  and,  while  fixing  it 
in  his  mind,  emerged  on  the  main  trail,  marked  by  the  deep 
rut  where  the  pack  horses  had  trod.  A  few  steps  more 
brought  him  within  sight  of  the  McCarthy  cabin. 

Sally  was  at  the  door,  in  the  act  of  hanging  the  dishpan 
up  to  drip.  Her  coiled  hair  was  sparkling  with  raindrops, 
and  her  short  skirt  gave  evidence  of  a  recent  tramp 
through  the  wet  brush.    Hal  took  off  his  cap  and  bowed. 

She  nodded  and  wrung  out  the  dish-cloth.  Then  she 
drew  back  so  that  he  might  come  in.  "It's  wet  this 
morning,"  she  remarked.  "I  didn't  expect  you'd  come 
for  your  grip." 

"I've  got  to  get  used  to  the  rain  some  time,"  he 
answered. 

"That's  the  least  of  our  troubles,"  she  responded. 

He  sat  down  awkwardly  and  fumbled  his  cap.  "I  don't 
see  how  you  can  have  many  troubles,"  he  said  indiffer- 
ently. "Out  here  in  the  woods  I  suppose  you  Uve  the 
simple  life." 

She  wrinkled  her  brow  over  the  phrase.  "  I  don't  know 
what  you  call  it  East,"  she  said  slowly.  "But  I  don't 
call  the  timber  simple." 

His  slight  stare  called  for  more  explanation,  wTiich  she 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  83 

did  not  feel  like  giving.  She  kicked  a  chair  over  to  the 
stove  and  sat  down,  crossing  her  legs  easily  so  as  to  hold 
one  booted  foot  out  to  the  warmth.  "So  you're  Spencer's 
partner?"  she  remarked. 

"I'm  his  hired  man." 

She  glanced  at  him  amusedly 

He  assumed  a  dignity  that  broke  down  under  her  frank 
smile.  "Oh,  well,"  he  said  carelessly,  "I'm  a  sort  of  old 
friend.  He  offered  me  a  good  chance,  and  so  I  accepted 
it.    He  seems  a  good  sort  of  fellow." 

"I  thought  you  just  said  he  was  an  old  friend,"  she 
remarked,  with  a  hint  of  rebuke  in  her  tone. 

"You  mean  my  saying  that  he  seems  a  good  sort  of 
fellow?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said.  "If  he's  your  friend,  what  does  that 
matter?" 

He  stared  in  honest  amazement.  "  I  did  n't  say  any- 
thing against  him,"  he  corrected  her  stiffly. 

"You  better  not,"  was  her  tranquil  answer. 

Curiosity  got  the  better  of  him.  "Why  not?"  he 
demanded. 

Her  gray  eyes  met  his.  "He's  my  friend,"  she  replied 
briefly. 

He  smiled.  "I  guess  he's  proved  a  good  friend  to  me," 
he  confessed.  "  I  suppose  that  should  prevent  my  saying 
anything  that  even  sounded  like  criticism." 


84  THELANDCLAIMERS 

She  nodded  and  swung  the  other  foot  up  to  the  fire. 
"You  ain't  any  friend  of  Lim  White?'' 

"No,"  he  said.  "There's  where  I  can  speak  safely.  I 
don't  even  know  him.    Who  is  he?" 

"He's  a  locator,"  she  answered.  "He  located  Mr. 
Spencer  on  his  claim." 

"Does  that  make  him  a  friend,  or  an  enemy?" 

She  shook  her  head,  as  much  as  to  say  that  she  could 
not  answer  directly.  "  But  that  claim  is  n't  worth  all  that 
Mr.  Spencer  thinks  it  is." 

"I  guess  that  that's  where  I  come  in,"  he  said  thought- 
fully. "  He  was  wanting  me  to  look  it  over  and  estimate  the 
timber  for  him."    He  glanced  up.    "What  do  you  think?" 

"I  think  Mr.  Spencer  isn't  strong,"  she  said  curtly. 
"He  told  me  he  was  here  for  his  health." 

Marini  got  up.  "I  must  be  getting  back.  I've  got  to 
find  out  what  I've  got  to  do."  ' 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  too,  displaying  her  lithe  figure  with 
unconscious  grace.  "I  tell  you,"  she  said.  "I  would  n't 
say  much.  Lim 's  got  too  many  —  too  many  —  friends. 
He's  quite  prominent  in  the  Siletz.  He's  been  too  smart 
for  them  all." 

"You  think  Spencer  is  n't  very  smart?"  he  demanded. 

"I  think  he  needs  a  good  cook,"  she  said  smiling. 
"  And  when  you  boys  get  starved,  just  drop  in.  Dad  and 
I'll  be  glad  to  see  you." 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS  85 

On  his  way  back  to  the  shanty,  the  young  man  bent 
his  brows  over  the  problem  he  was  confronted  with,  finally 
dismissing  it  as  "hot  air,'*  a  convenient  phrase  borrowed 
from  his  college  slang.  He  greeted  Spencer,  set  his  suit-case 
down  by  the  stove  and  opened  it.  Later  he  put  three 
books  down  on  the  table.  "  These  will  help  me  decide  how 
much  timber  there  is  on  this  claim,"  he  announced. 

Spencer  nodded.  "You  just  spend  your  time  on  that," 
he  said.  "  I  got  a  lot  of  training  to  do.  I  'm  taking  some 
exercises  the  doc  told  me  to  use."  He  picked  up  the  ax 
and  went  out.  Pretty  soon  Hal,  looking  out  the  window, 
saw  his  employer  swinging  the  steel  into  a  fallen  log, 
despite  a  heavy  rain  that  veiled  the  surrounding  timber 
like  a  gray  texture.  He  watched  him  a  moment  and  then 
opened  his  books.  "I  suppose  I  better  be  earning  my 
salary,"  he  said  to  himself. 

Neither  he  nor  Spencer  was  aware  that  back  on  the 
hill,  crouched  amid  the  reeking  brush,  Sally  was  staring 
out  over  their  clearing,  her  eyes  bliured  with  tears.  On 
her  tense  face  was  an  expression  of  anxiety,  of  passionate 
rebellion,  of  profound  solicitude.  Spencer  finally  dropped 
his  ax  and  leaned  on  the  helve  wearily.  "  He  ought  n't 
to  do  it!"  she  panted.  "He'll  kill  himself!"  She  slipped 
back  slowly  and  vanished,  after  one  long  look  at  the  un- 
conscious man  below.  It  was  the  second  time  that  morn- 
ing that  she  had  spied  upon  him. 


86  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

Half  an  hour  later  she  crossed  the  clearing,  waved  her 
hand  to  Spencer,  and  waited  for  him  to  join  her  at  the 
door.    "You're  real  nice,' ^  he  said.    "Come  in!" 

She  stopped  him  with  a  gesture.  "No.  Do  you  know 
what  day  to-morrow  is?" 

Spencer  puzzled  and  then  looked  at  her  curiously. 
"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  it's  Christmas!"  he 
ejaculated. 

"It  is,"  she  replied  shortly.  "Dad's  in  Newport  and 
of  course  he  won't  be  back.  Could  n't  you  help  me  cele- 
brate? I'll  fix  up  a  good  dinner  over  at  our  house,  and 
you  and  your  friend  could  come  over  and  we  could  try 
to  have  a  good  time." 

Spencer  considered  her  with  twinkling  eyes.  "I  can't 
answer  for  myself,"  he  responded  with  a  grin.  "But  I 
can  answer  for  Hal.  And  as  he's  afraid  of  you  and  won't 
go  without  me,  I  s'pose  I'll  have  to  come." 

She  smiled.  "I'll  count  on  you,  then,"  she  said  and 
swung  off  down  the  trail.  When  Spencer  went  in  and 
told  Hal,  the  young  man  whistled.  "  D  'ye  know,  I  clean 
forgot  about  it's  being  Christmas  and  I  never  sent  mother 
a  thing!" 

"That's  all  right,"  was  the  dry  answer.  "She'll  re- 
member you  just  the  same.    The  women  never  forget." 


CHAPTER  VII 

CHRISTMAS  morning  came  in  a  smudge  of  mist. 
When  Hal  woke  up  in  his  hard  bed  and  turned  over 
so  that  he  could  see  the  dim  gray  that  marked  the  window, 
his  thoughts  were  dull.  He  had  slept  well  and  he  was 
wide-awake.  But  there  was  little  spring  to  his  nerves 
this  morning  and  he  wondered  when  Spencer  would  get 
up  and  start  breakfast.  Presently,  as  there  was  no  sound 
from  the  other  bed,  he  sat  up  and  looked  over.  The  bunk 
was  empty. 

He  got  up,  dressed  hastily  and  started  the  fire  in  the 
little  sheet-iron  stove.  When  it  gave  signs  of  going  well, 
he  opened  the  door  and  looked  out.  The  clearing  was 
filled  with  gray  mist.  Through  it  he  saw  vaguely  the 
clump  of  alders  that  marked  where  the  trail  crossed  the 
creek.  There  was  no  sign  of  Spencer.  He  went  back  into 
the  cabin  and  shut  the  door,  and  there  came  to  him  the 
vague  suggestion  that  he  ought  to  get  breakfast  ready. 
Probably  Spencer  was  out  somewhere  cutting  wood.  It 
would  only  be  decent  to  have  the  meal  ready  for  him.  He 
went  to  the  shelf  that  served  as  a  pantry  and  scanned  the 
store  of  canned  goods,  sacks  of  meal  and  papers  of  bacon 


88  THELANDCLAIMERS 

and  dried  fish.  He  was  disgusted  with  himself  that  he 
could  not  cook. 

Spencer  came  in  laden  with  a  big  mass  of  Oregon 
grape,  which  he  threw  down  on  the  table  with  a  sigh  of 
weariness. 

"I  see  you've  got  breakfast  ready,"  he  said  cheerfully. 
"I  smell  the  water  boiling." 

Hal  smiled,  in  spite  of  his  chagrin.  "I  think  I  must 
learn  to  cook,"  he  announced. 

"It  pays,"  was  the  response.  "Probably  you  would 
cook  lots  better  than  I  do,  if  you  only  learned.  But  it's 
little  sport,  after  all." 

He  jerked  down  the  frying-pan,  stirred  up  the  hot 
cakes  and  Hal  wandered  around  the  shack  listlessly. 
Suddenly  he  looked   over  at  his  employer. 

"This  is  Merry  Christmas,"  he  said. 

"Sure,  I  got  them  greens  there  for  you  to  take  over  to 
McCarthy's." 

"You  better  take  them  yourself,"  Hal  replied.  "She 
thinks  more  of  you  than  of  anybody  else.  She  would  n't 
give  a  rap  if  I  took  them.     Anyway,  you  got  them." 

Spencer  glanced  over  and  shook  his  head.  "Sally  is  a 
good  friend,"  he  said  simply. 

"I'd  like  to  know  how  it  is  you  have  so  many  good 
friends,"  the  young  man  commenced  idly.  Then  he 
paused,  awkwardly. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  89 

"I've  always  been  sort  of  lucky  that  way/'  Spencer 
responded.  "But  I  guess  your  mother  was  about  the 
best.    I  wish  she  was  here  to  enjoy  Christmas  with  you.'* 

"I'm  glad  she  isn't,"  was  the  brief  rejoinder,  and 
Spencer  winced  at  the  suggestion  that  the  brilliant  Flos- 
setta  would  have  been  bored  and  uncomfortable.  "  Well," 
he  remarked,  "I  was  merely  thinkin'  she'd  like  to  see 

you." 

After  breakfast,  Spencer  shaved  and  dressed  himself 
with  a  certain  care  that  Hal  found  annoying.  A  gorgeous 
cotton  shirt,  a  high  white  collar,  no  waistcoat  and  belted 
trousers  struck  him  as  ridiculous  on  a  rainy  day  in  the 
heart  of  the  forest.  When  Spencer  added  to  these  habili- 
ments a  pair  of  yellow  gloves  and  patent  leather  shoes, 
his  disgust  found  voice. 

"You  aren't  going  to  wear  all  that  finery,  are  you?" 
he  demanded  crossly.  "They'll  think  you're  crazy  I 
I'm  going  to  wear  my  old  clothes." 

Sim  was  evidently  hurt.  "It  don't  do  no  harm  to 
dress  up  for  the  ladies,"  he  averred,  "and  Sally  is  goin' 
to  have  just  as  smart  and  clever  a  party  to-day  as  any 
gell,  so  far  as  I'm  concerned." 

"I'll  bet  she'll  be  wearing  her  father's  boots  and  a 
pair  of  overalls,"  was  the  reply.  "And  I'm  certainly 
not  going  to  all  the  trouble  of  polishing  up  and  shining 
bright  for  these  timber  folks." 


90  THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

There  was  no  answer  to  this.  Spencer  squeezed  him- 
self into  a  very  small,  light-colored  overcoat,  gathered 
up  the  grape  boughs  in  his  arms  and  signified  that  he 
was  ready.  Hal,  somewhat  ashamed  of  himself,  put  on 
his  coat  and  followed  him  out  of  the  door.  All  the  way 
to  the  McCarthy  cabin  he  dragged  behind,  growling  and 
sarcastically  wondering  whether  he  should  not  have  put 
on  his  dress  suit.  To  these  marks  of  temper  his  employer 
paid  no  attention  whatever,  trudging  on  over  the  ir- 
regularities of  the  trail  with  a  determinedly  complacent 
air. 

As  they  turned  into  the  main  trail  and  came  in  sight 
of  the  cabin,  Marini  stopped.  "Look  here,"  he  snorted. 
"It's  only  half -past  nine.  Do  you  mean  to  say  we're  to 
inflict  ourselves  on  our  hostess  at  this  unearthly  hour  in 
the  morning?  " 

Spencer  turned  round,  his  dark  eyes  resting  gently  on 
his  companion.  "Forget  it,"  he  said.  "This  is  Christ- 
mas day.  Sally  will  be  glad  to  see  us  any  time.  And  we 
can  help  her  fix  things  up.     See?  " 

They  passed  on,  entered  the  McCarthy  clearing  and 
arrived  at  the  door.  Sim  knocked  loudly.  A  moment 
later  he  was  shaking  Sally  warmly  by  the  hand,  calling 
out  Merry  Christmas  with  great  energy  and  trying  to 
drag  Hal  in  by  main  force.  Once  inside  he  dropped  his 
armful  of  grape,  jerked  off  his  coat  and  gloves,  smiled 


A  moment  later  he  was  shaking  Sally  warmly  by  the  hand  " 

.    .  Page  90 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  91 

inclusively  and  said:  *'Miss  Sally,  I  never  saw  a  prettier 
gell  in  my  life  than  you  are  this  minute." 

Hal  stood  by  the  door,  staring.  Between  them  their 
hostess  glanced  from  one  to  the  other,  smiling  frankly 
over  the  compliment.  She  was  dressed  in  a  gray  gown, 
sleeveless,  close-fitting,  displaying  her  pale,  smooth 
throat  and  firm  shoulders.  Her  hair  was  coiled  loosely 
on  her  head.  Beneath  the  hem  of  her  skirt  Hal  saw  she 
was  wearing  slippers.  In  some  astounding  way  she  was 
a  vision  of  conscious  and  serene  beauty.  It  was  not  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  amid  the  reeking  timber  of  the 
wilderness,  and  she  smiled  at  him  with  a  perfection  of 
allure,  a  sudden  and  incredible  loveliness  that  made  him 
gasp.  Under  his  eyes  a  faint,  pure  color  rose  in  her 
cheeks.  With  an  unconscious  gesture  of  innocence  and 
shyness  she  put  her  hand  to  her  throat,  smiling  timor- 
ously. Spencer  broke  the  silence  with  his  husky  voice. 
"Hal  brought  you  that  Oregon  grape,  Sally." 

She  smiled  at  him  with  relief.  "TU  bet  I  know  who 
got  it,"  she  said  clearly.  "It  was  Sim  Spencer,  not  Hal." 
She  stooped  and  gathered  it  into  her  arms,  careless  of 
the  drops  of  moisture  on  it.  Holding  it  like  a  shield 
before  her,  she  glanced  over  its  protecting  fronds  at  the 
young  man.  "Put  up  your  hat  and  coat,"  she  said  hos- 
pitably; "I'll  let  you  stay  a  while." 

"Sure,  she'll  let  you  stay,"  Spencer  repeated  humor- 


92  THELANDCLAIMERS 

ously.  He  hung  his  own  coat  and  hat  on  a  peg  and  osten- 
tatiously rolled  a  cigarette,  while  Sally  took  the  greenery 
and  scattered  it  over  the  table.  She  looked  over  at  him 
as  he  stood  in  gaudy  shirt-sleeves,  lighting  the  cigarette. 
"I  thought  I  told  you  never  to  smoke  them  any  more," 
she  called. 

"This  is  Christmas,"  he  retorted,  "the  one  day  in  the 
year  when  I  smoke  cigarettes  and  don't  cook.  What  you 
got  for  dinner,  Sally?" 

She  came  back  to  him  with  a  smile.  "I've  got  a  first- 
class  piece  of  venison,"  she  announced.  "Wild  Bill  came 
by  yesterday  and  he  had  a  deer  and  he  gave  me  some. 
It's  cooking  now." 

"Who  else  is  coming?"  Spencer  went  on. 

"There's  Ted  Bailey,  from  over  in  9-10,  and  Bob  Wil- 
liams and  that  school  teacher  who's  just  come  in  over  in 
10-11  and  you  and  your  friend  here.    That's  all.'* 

"And  whoever  comes  along  the  trail,"  Spencer  added 
slyly. 

She  nodded.  "Of  course.  But  I  guess  not  many '11  be 
traveling  on  Christmas  day,  especially  as  it's  raining." 
She  glanced  out  of  the  window.  "There's  Ted  and  Bob," 
she  announced  quickly.     "Let  'em  in,  Mr.  Spencer." 

Sim  opened  the  door  and  welcomed  the  newcomers 
who  tramped  in  unceremoniously,  threw  wet  coats  and 
hats  down  in  the  corner  and  greeted  Sally  cheerfully. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  93 

Both  seemed  rather  abashed  by  the  splendor  of  her  ap- 
pearance, but  Williams  merely  stated  that  he  supposed 
Sally  was  "dressing  for  six,"  inferring  that  she  had  to 
represent  the  good  clothes  and  possible  beauty  of  all  her 
guests. 

Half  an  hour  later  another  knock  on  the  door  led 
Sally,  who  with  skirt  tucked  up  was  basting  the  venison, 
to  shout:  "Come  in.  Miss  Reynolds!" 

"The  new  homesteader  just  come  in,"  Ted  Bailey 
whispered  to  Marini;  "used  to  teach  school  somewhere 
back  East." 

But  when  the  door  opened,  it  was  not  a  woman  who 
appeared.  Instead  a  tall,  stooped  man,  with  a  heavy 
pack  on  his  back,  thrust  a  tousled  head  in  and  bellowed, 
"Merry  Christmas,  everybody!" 

"Come  in,  Scout!"  Sally  ordered,  coming  forward. 
"Come  on  in  and  put  your  pack  down  and  stay  to 
dinner." 

"I  dunno.  Miss  McCarthy,"  he  replied  slowly. 
"Looks  to  me  as  though  you  had  enough  to  feed  now." 
He  swung  his  pack  down,  however,  and  was  soon  tucked 
away  in  a  corner,  whence  he  spoke  but  once.  "Miss 
McCarthy,"  he  said  slowly,  "I'm  glad  I  happened  by. 
You  sure  do  look  Christmassy  and  fine."  She  flashed  a 
smile  at  him  and  he  was  content. 

At  half-past  ten  Sally,  after  continual  glances  out  of 


94  THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

the  door,  opined  that  Miss  Reynolds  was  lost.  "Her 
place  is  just  across  the  section,"  she  told  Hal.  "But 
she's  new  to  the  country  and  probably  she's  afraid.  I 
wish  one  of  you  boys  would  go  and  fetch  her." 

Bailey  and  Williams  volunteered  for  this  tender  ser- 
vice and  disappeared  across  the  clearing,  the  sound  of 
their  voices  drifting  back  clearly  and  cheerfully.  They 
returned  in  a  few  minutes  with  Miss  Reynolds  between 
them.  "Found  her  coming,"  Williams  proclaimed, 
"and  she  says  the  Peterses  are  over  at  her  place." 

Sally  smiled.  "Why  didn't  you  bring  them  along?" 
she  inquired  of  her  guest,  who  was  trying  to  extricate 
herself  from  a  waterproof. 

"They're  on  their  way  to  the  Agency,"  Miss  Rey- 
nolds replied,  patting  her  hair.  "And  you  ought  to  see 
Mrs.  Peters!"  She  laughed  uneasily.  "I  don't  think 
she'd  come." 

Sally  turned  to  Spencer.  "It's  up  to  you,"  she  said. 
"You  just  go  over  and  get  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Peters  and 
bring  them  here.  I  guess  there's  enough  dinner  for 
everybody." 

Miss  Reynolds  smoothed  the  front  of  her  skirt  self- 
consciously. "I  don't  believe  she'll  come,"  she  sug- 
gested.    "She's  got  no  clothes  to  wear." 

Sally  sniffed  magnificently.  "Don't  worry  about 
clothes,"  she  said.    "I  guess  Mrs.  Peters '11  come."    She 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  95 

glanced  at  Spencer,  who  was  putting  on  his  coat.  "You 
just  tell  her  this  ain't  style,"  she  said  simply;  "this  is 
dinner." 

Sim  departed  and  the  guests  settled  down  to  the  in- 
terminable gossip  of  the  big  forest.  Even  Miss  Reynolds, 
comfortably  aware  of  appropriate  attire,  knowledge  of 
society  and  experience  in  Christmas  dinners,  contributed 
an  eager  mite  to  the  general  fund:  "I  saw  Mr.  White 
yesterday,"  she  said,  "and  he  told  me  nearly  a  hundred 
people  were  coming  in  to  take  up  claims." 

"Who's  locating  them?"  demanded  Ted  Bailey. 

"It  isn't  Lim,"  the  scout  said  from  the  corner  where 
he  was  peeling  potatoes.  "It's  some  fellow  from  Clats- 
kanie.  He  was  in  here  all  summer,  looking  over  places 
and  getting  relinquishments  from  people  that  had  trouble 
and  couldn't  prove  up.  I  understand — "  he  talked  on 
amiably  till  Sally,  noting  Hal  Marini's  puzzled  expres- 
sion, called  out:  "Look  here,  Scout.  How  far  have  you 
come  this  morning?" 

"From  Newport,"  was  the  answer.  "I  went  up  to 
Depot  Bay,  too,  and  came  in  by  the  other  trail." 

"I  thought  as  much,"  Sally  commented  drily.  "You 
would  n't  talk  at  all,  but  would  sulk  in  a  corner  if  you 
hadn't  walked  at  least  twenty  miles  before  breakfast." 
The  scout,  abashed,  devoted  himself  to  his  potatoes. 

"You're  a  newcomer,  too,  aren't  you?"  Miss  Rey- 


96  THELANDCL  AIMERS 

nolds  said  to  Hal,  with  a  faint  air  of  approval  of  him,  as 
if  his  lack  of  acquaintance  with  the  timber  and  the  people 
were  a  hardly  won  virtue.    "  Where 's  your  claim? " 

He  moved  over  beside  her  on  the  rough  couch  and 
nodded.  "I'm  new,  but  I've  got  no  claim.  I'm  with 
Mr.  Spencer." 

"Spencer  is  on  Old  Man  Peterson's  place,"  the  scout 
interjected  irrepressibly. 

Miss  Reynolds  went  on,  pleasantly:  "Is  it  a  very 
good  claim?  I'm  so  interested  in  claims.  You  know 
I  've  been  told  that  mine  is  the  best  but  one  in  the  whole 
Siletz,  and  I'm  just  dying  to  know  which  is  the  best  one. 
Now,  tell  me,  is  it  yours?  " 

Hal  shook  his  head.  "I've  got  no  claim.  I'm  just 
working  for  Mr.  Spencer." 

Miss  Reynolds  was  puzzled.  Later  she  approached 
her  hostess  and  asked  whether  Mr.  Spencer  was  "the 
little  fellow  with  the  tin  collar,"  this  reference,  as  Sally 
justly  surmised,  being  to  Mr.  Spencer's  holiday  attire. 
Ignoring  Sally's  frown.  Miss  Reynolds  went  on:  "And 
to  think  that  that  nice  young  fellow  works  for  him! 
Don't  you  suppose  we  could  get  him  a  claim,  or  some- 
thing? There  are  lots  of  claims  round  here,  that  he 
could  have." 

Sally  nodded.  "It  is  too  bad,"  she  said  coldly,  "And 
he  has  such  a  nice  mother,  too  I  '* 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  97 

This  was  a  little  beyond  Miss  Reynolds  and  she  with- 
drew, murmuring:  "I  didn't  know  about  his  mother.** 
While  she  was  sitting  down  beside  Hal  again,  a  long 
operation  owing  to  the  fact  that  he  insisted  on  arrang- 
ing the  bearskins  comfortably,  Sally  called  the  scout  out- 
side. "Scout,**  she  said  severely,  "if  you  open  your 
mouth  again  before  there  *s  a  hot  potato  ready  to  put  in 
it,  I  '11  send  you  on  without  your  dinner.  What  business 
of  ours  is  it  whose  claim  Spencer  has?  or  how  good  it  is? 
My  sakes!  but  you  talk  farther  than  you  walk.  Now 
hush!** 

The  scout  smiled  modestly,  saying:  "Trust  you  to 
remember  the  man  that  can  walk.  But  what  have  I 
said,  now,  to  hurt  your  feelin's?** 

Sally  frowned.  "Be  good  enough  to  shut  up  I*'  she 
remarked. 

The  scout  returned  to  the  cabin  and  presently  drew 
Ted  Bailey  aside.  "Look  here,  Ted,**  he  said  awkwardly, 
"I*ve  made  Sally  hot  by  talkin*  too  much,  she  says. 
Now  I  don't  aim  to  talk  about  what*s  none  of  my  busi- 
ness, but  Miss  Reynolds  she  says  that  she  wants  to  know 
whose  claim  Marini  has,  and  you  and  I  and  Sally  know 
he  has  n*t  any  claim  at  all,  and  so  naturally,  as  she  asked 
the  question,  I  answered  out  so  — ** 

Bailey  laughed.  "She's  lookin*  at  you  now.  You 
better  be  careful.'* 


98  THELANDCLAIMERS 

At  this  moment  Spencer  threw  the  door  open  and  called: 
"Here's  the  Petersesl" 

"  I  hope  she  found  some  of  my  clothes  to  put  on,"  said 
Miss  Reynolds  earnestly.    Then  she  gasped. 

Mrs.  Peters,  a  small,  graceful  woman,  walked  into  the 
room  and  shook  hands  with  Sally,  while  her  husband  fol- 
lowed, ducking  so  as  not  to  strike  his  pack  sack  on  the 
top  of  the  doorway.  Once  inside  he  beamed  impartially 
around  and  boomed  "Merry  Christmas!" 

As  they  stood  there  Hal  wondered.  Mrs.  Peters  was 
dressed  in  men's  clothes,  blue  flannel  shirt,  heavy  trousers 
tucked  into  laced  boots  and  a  sou'w^ester  on  her  head. 
And  yet  she  breathed  an  atmosphere  of  delicacy,  of  refine- 
ment. She  was  introduced  to  him  immediately,  and  he 
observed  that  she  neither  apologized  for  her  garb  nor 
gave  it  any  attention  whatever,  except  to  tuck  her  heavy 
gauntlets  into  her  belt  before  reaching  up  to  relieve  her 
husband  of  his  pack.  Peters  slipped  the  straps  carefully 
from  his  shoulders  and  swung  the  canvas  sack  down.  His 
wife  dived  into  it  and  extracted  therefrom  a  bundle  that 
proved  to  contain  a  baby.  It  blinked  sleepily  in  the  light, 
murmured  peevishly  at  being  disturbed,  and  promptly 
closed  its  eyes. 

"Now  how's  that  for  a  homesteader?"  said  Peters. 
"Ain't  he  a  peach?  And  I  packed  him  in  yesterday  from 
the  place,  up  hill  and  down  dale,  and  he  never  had  a  word 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  99 

to  say  except  to  kick  my  shoulder  blades  when  it  was  time 
for  meals."  He  dropped  into  a  chair  and  looked  at  Miss 
Reynolds.  "I  see  you  got  here  all  right,"  he  remarked 
politely. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  shortly. 

Within  the  next  hour  half  a  dozen  different  people 
knocked  on  the  door,  threw  in  a  word  of  greeting  and 
passed  on,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  to  each  one  Sally 
gave  a  special,  warm  invitation  to  stay  and  have  dinner. 
Finally  Mrs.  Peters  was  heard  to  say:  "Sally,  the  next 
man  must  stay.  Every  time  anybody  knocks  you  put 
three  extra  potatoes  in  the  pot,  and  now  we've  got 
spuds  enough  for  twenty." 

"Here's  ten  of  the  twenty,"  said  the  scout,  brighten- 
ing up.    "How  long  till  dinner?" 

"Ready  now,"  Sally  announced.  "You  boys  get  the 
table  ready." 

This  was  soon  done  by  putting  the  two  tables  the  cabin 
contained  end  for  end,  with  a  series  of  boxes  that  grad- 
uated into  sizes  too  small  for  anything  but  seats.  The 
little  party  crowded  around  this  and  the  venison  was 
served;  a  sudden,  purposeful  silence  reigned  while  they 
proceeded  to  eat. 

When  dinner  was  over,  the  men  went  out  into  the 
clearing  with  their  rifles  and  shot  at  a  mark.  Half  an 
hour  later  the  women  trooped  out  and  joined  them.    Some- 


100        THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

body  suggested  a  bonfire,  and  Sally  directed  this  exuberant 
energy  towards  the  demolition  of  a  big  stump.  Augers 
were  got,  holes  were  bored,  coals  thrust  in  and  the  bellows 
put  to  work.  But  this  was  cold  comfort,  and  Ted  Bailey, 
drawing  aside  Williams  and  Marini,  suggested  that  it 
would  do  no  harm  to  anybody  and  much  good  to  a  few 
if  they  knocked  to  pieces  the  fir  trunk  lying  near  the 
cabin  and  burned  it.  "I  don't  believe  Sally  likes  to  see 
it,  anyway,"  Williams  agreed.  "It  came  too  near  to 
knocking  the  house  down.    Let's  get  to  work." 

So  they  got  axes  and  saws  and  went  at  the  huge  log 
with  such  zeal  that  it  was  soon  cut  into  pieces  that  could 
be  dragged  into  the  open,  where  before  long  a  yellow  flame 
was  roaring  upward  in  the  natural  chimney  formed  by 
the  little  opening  among  the  towering  firs.  The  heat  made 
the  ground  steam,  blackened  the  hoar  moss  on  the  vine 
maples,  and  sudden  yellow  patches  far  up  in  the  green  of 
the  trees  marked  the  passage  of  the  parching  draught. 

Seated  on  the  little  bench  by  the  doorway,  Sally  and 
her  guests  watched  the  fire  and  enjoyed  its  warmth  while 
the  sun  settled  behind  the  dull  clouds  and  the  winter 
night  descended.  When  there  was  still  an  hour  of  light, 
Miss  Reynolds  and  the  Peters  family  departed  under  the 
escort  of  Bailey  and  Williams.  The  scout  took  his  pack 
and  stalked  away  in  another  direction,  and  Hal,  glancing 
over  at  the  silent  Spencer,  wondered  aloud  whether  they 


THE  LAND  CLAlMEll?^         W\ 

had  not  best  be  making  for  home.  Sim  nodded.  "  We  've 
had  a  good  time,  Sally,"  he  murmm-ed.  "I  never  ate  so 
much  in  my  life." 

She  smiled  at  him  radiantly.  "You  ought  to  eat  my 
cooking  for  about  three  months,"  she  said.    "  And  then  —  " 

"Gee!  I'd  hunt  him  up  I"  Spencer  finished  rapidly. 
They  both  laughed.  With  a  sudden  sigh  she  turned  to 
Hal.  "I  wish  you'd  let  me  teach  you  to  cook,"  she  sug- 
gested.   "It  would  be  so  nice  if  you  could!" 

Hal  stared  at  the  dying  flame  of  the  bonfire.  "That's 
very  kind  of  you,"  he  answered.  "But  I  don't  see  just 
what  good  it  would  do  me  to  learn  to  cook.  Spencer  is 
cook  enough  for  us." 

Her  silence  brought  his  eyes  to  her.  She  was  standing 
in  the  shadow,  her  white  arms  resting  on  the  back  of  a 
chair.  In  the  dusk  her  beauty  was  less  defined,  less  in- 
sistent than  it  had  been  in  the  stuffy  cabin.  Involuntarily 
he  compared  her  with  Miss  Reynolds.  He  ended  by 
wishing  that  Sally  had  what  he  could  only  term  "educa- 
tion."   He  stared  at  her. 

A  sudden  chill  air  struck  across  the  little  group  and 
Marini  glanced  round.  The  fire  had  died  into  a  mass  of 
embers  that  sputtered  in  the  falling  mist.  Sally  still 
stood  with  arms  and  neck  bare  to  the  wind.  And  back  in 
the  darkness,  bent  over  his  cold  hands,  huddled  together 
as  if  in  a  mortal  chill,  he  saw  Spencer.    With  a  trace  of 


/aCi2;;:':^H-fe.IJ^  CLAIMERS 

alarm  he  stepped  forward.  Sally  caught  his  quick  glance 
and  turned  swiftly.  Spencer  waved  them  back  with  airy 
manner.  "What's  the  matter  with  youse?"  he  de- 
manded facetiously.    "You  look  as  if  you  saw  a  ghost!" 

Sally  laughed  and  Hal  joined  her.  They  went  in. 
Spencer,  as  soon  as  they  vanished,  bent  over  again,  caught 
in  the  deadly  grasp  of  pain.  His  hand  crept  slowly  up  to 
his  breast  and  finally  rested,  shaking,  over  his  heart. 

It  was  pitch  dark  when  he  came  into  the  cabin.  Sally 
was  sitting  by  the  stove,  her  arms  around  her  knees. 
Across  from  her  Hal  was  smoking  solemnly.  "You  sure 
look  homelike,"  Spencer  remarked,  repressing  a  shudder 
of  pain.  He  sat  down  in  the  corner  and  lit  a  cigarette. 
In  the  shadowy  room  the  open  door  of  the  stove  allowed 
strange  flickers  of  light  to  play  back  and  forth,  illuminating 
the  crude  hangings  on  the  wall,  the  twisted  mirror  glass 
suspended  from  a  rafter,  the  pile  of  worn  magazines  on  a 
shelf.    And  the  three  of  them  dreamed  and  said  nothing. 

"We'd  better  be  going  home,"  Hal  suggested  finally. 

"Too  late,"  said  Sally.    "Nobody  travels  after  dark." 

"Nonsense,"  he  said  sharply.  "That's  just  a  hospi- 
table excuse." 

"It's  true,"  Spencer  interjected.  "Nobody  goes  on 
the  trail  after  sundown.    It's  too  dangerous." 

"That's  true,"  reiterated  Sally.  "You  boys  '11  have  to 
tumble  in  on  the  floor.    I  guess  we  can  fix  a  shakedown 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         103 

for  you.  I'll  be  glad  of  company  to-night."  She  turned 
to  Spencer.    "I'm  sort  of  homesick,"  she  remarked. 

"Where  is  your  home?"  Marini  demanded. 

"Here,"  was  the  curt  reply. 

"That  Miss  Reynolds  is  quite  society,"  Spencer  began, 
bent  on  opening  a  cheerful  subject.  "I  wonder  whether 
she  likes  it  in  here." 

"She'll  have  to  like  it,"  Sally  said.  "But  I  think 
she'll  have  to  get  rid  of  some  of  her  fine  notions.  She 
seems  to  find  the  Siletz  pretty  rough  in  clothes  and  man- 
ners. I  did  n't  like  the  way  she  spoke  about  Mrs.  Peters. 
Did  you  hear  what  she  said?" 

"She  thought  it  was  hardly  the  thing  for  Mrs.  Peters 
to  be  wearing  a  man's  clothes,"  Hal  responded.  "And  I 
must  say  they  looked  queer." 

"They  were  her  husband's,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 
"And  I  suppose  she  thought  I  wasn't  dressed  just  as  I 
ought  to  have  been." 

Spencer  chuckled.  "You  were  too  pretty  for  her,"  he 
remarked. 

"Well,"  Hal  said  painstakingly,  "they  don't  wear 
clothes  like  that  till  evening,  usually.  Not  that  you 
don't  look  very  nice,  Miss  McCarthy." 

She  did  not  answer.  Once  or  twice  Spencer  seemed  on 
the  point  of  speech,  but  his  voice  died  away  in  murmurs. 
Finally  he  got  up  and  stretched  his  arms  over  his  head. 


104         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

"Best  get  a  light,  Hal,"  he  suggested.  "Then  we'll  make 
up  a  bed  on  the  floor.    I'm  tired." 

With  a  brief  "good  night"  Sally  departed  to  her  own 
place  behind  the  curtains,  and  the  men,  tossing  blankets 
on  the  mattress  tumbled  on  the  floor,  pulled  off  their  shoes 
and  rolled  themselves  up.  Spencer,  hearing  the  gentle 
breathing  of  his  companion,  stared  up  at  the  dark  roof. 
In  his  ears  was  the  dull,  continuous  sound  of  the  rain. 
His  thoughts  were  cold  and  comfortless.  He  was  getting 
old,  his  turbulent  and  fiery  youth  had  cooled  down  into 
tasteless  age.  There  was  little  in  the  future  and  the  present 
was  intolerable.  "They  despise  me,"  he  thought  to  him- 
self. "I'm  a  chump  and  I've  been  stung,  and  they 
despise  me." 

Later  his  thoughts  were  of  Sally.  He  wondered  at  her 
beauty,  her  loneliness,  her  self-sufficiency.  "If  I  was 
fifteen  years  younger,  I'd  make  her  marry  me,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "She's  a  true  gell,  a  fine  gell.  She's  too  good 
for  all  these  teachers  and  soft-handed  crooks.  She's  too 
good  for  Hal  —  but  she'll  be  the  makin'  of  him.  And  I'll 
see  that  they  get  a  square  deal  and  some  money  for  the 
kids." 

Having  thus  determined  the  course  of  the  future  to  his 
own  satisfaction,  Sim  Spencer  closed  his  eyes. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IT  was  late  in  January.  After  several  weeks  of  work 
Hal  Marini  found  himself  on  the  crest  of  the  ridge, 
note-book  in  hand.  He  had  cruised  the  whole  one  hundred 
and  sixty  acres  of  Spencer's  claim  with  such  care  as  he 
could  give  to  a  business  he  knew  little  of.  Yet  he  had  not 
only  the  general  features  of  the  quarter-section,  but  the 
number  of  trees  upon  it,  the  average  of  each  and  the 
probable  timber  it  would  yield.  He  had  just  added  the 
totals.  He  was  staring  ahead  of  him  with  an  expression  of 
concentrated  anxiety,  anxiety  that  was  mingled  of  many 
things,  when  there  was  a  slight  noise  in  the  undergrowth 
twenty  yards  away,  a  sudden  parting  of  the  saplings  that 
veiled  a  spring  whose  trickle  he  heard  dully  amid  the  si- 
lence of  the  forest.  A  girl  stepped  out  upon  the  red  bulk  of 
a  fallen  tree.  He  stared  at  her.  It  was  Sally  McCarthy, 
poised  like  a  fawn  for  flight. 

From  the  chill  green  of  the  timber  her  slender  figure 
emerged  graciously.  He  saw  the  clean  lines  of  her  maidenly 
form,  the  flat  curve  of  her  hips,  the  loosely  confined  waist, 
the  firm  delineation  of  her  bosom  under  the  blue  flannel 
shirt.    Her  paUid  face,  tinged  by  exposure  but  not  colored. 


106         THELANDCLAIMERS 

was  turned  full  on  him.  He  saw  the  red  of  her  mouth  and 
the  brown  of  her  uncovered  hair.  His  note-book  fell  to 
the  ground,  unheeded. 

She  met  his  eyes  timidly,  and  her  hand  fell  slowly  to 
rest  on  a  cedar  bough  swaying  at  her  side.  In  the  lifeless, 
warmthless  solitude  they  had  suddenly  come  upon  each 
other,  as  if  they  were  the  only  two  people  in  the  world. 
And  so,  hardly  aware  who  the  other  was,  they  stared 
breathlessly,  while  the  afternoon  darkened  swiftly  and 
the  winter's  night  came  on. 

With  a  crack  the  rotten  log  on  which  she  stood  gave 
under  her  weight,  and  she  slipped  down.  He  leaped  to 
see  whether  she  were  hurt.  Her  laugh  rang  out.  "My 
sakes!"  she  cried,  pushing  the  bushes  from  before  her 
face,  "you  scared  me!" 

He  flushed  with  embarrassment.  "  I  did  n't  know  who 
it  could  be,"  he  said  haltingly,  in  explanation  of  his  long 
gaze. 

She  did  not  meet  his  eyes  but  patted  her  skirt  down 
over  her  knees.  "I  was  just  prospecting  around  when  I 
came  out  and  saw  you,"  she  remarked.  "But  I  didn't 
know  it  was  you,  at  first." 

"Who  did  you  think  it  was?"  he  demanded  more 
boldly. 

"Some  cruiser,"  she  answered  shortly.  "What  were 
you  doing?  " 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         107 

"I  was  figuring.    By  Jove!  I  dropped  my  note-book!'* 

They  went  together  to  the  place  and  stood  and  searched 
in  the  brush  till  he  found  the  missing  article.  He  picked 
it  up  and  wiped  the  wet  off  it.  Then,  for  lack  of  some- 
thing better,  they  sat  down  on  a  log  side  by  side.  Sally 
indicated  the  book  with  a  slender  finger.    "Cruising?" 

"Yes,"  he  said. 

"What  do  you  make  it?"  she  demanded  simply. 

He  hesitated.  "You  don't  need  to  tell  me,"  she  said 
hastily.    "  None  of  my  business,  of  course." 

"We'll  make  it  your  business,"  was  his  prompt  reply. 
"I  guess  from  what  Spencer  has  said  you're  a  friend  of 
his." 

She  nodded.  "I  like  him.  He's  —  he's  finSy'  she 
brought  out  with  emphasis. 

"I  wish  you  would  say  that  of  me,"  he  ventured. 

Wide-eyed  she  gazed  at  him.  "You  never  treated  me 
very  nicely  and  you  never  saved  me  when  I  was  scared." 

"You  never  gave  me  a  chance." 

She  brushed  this  aside.    "  What  does  it  figure?  " 

He  opened  to  the  page  that  held  the  totals.  "  The  best 
I  can  do  is  two  million  feet  and  odd,"  he  replied.  "And  I 
don't  believe  the  best  of  it  will  scale  more  than  a  million." 

"With  stumpage  at  six  bits,  that's  a  scant  eight  hun- 
dred dollars,"  she  said  quickly.  Then  she  looked  at  him. 
"It'll  kill  him!" 


108         THELANDCLAIMERS 

"He's  too  tough  to  be  killed  by  that,"  he  said  indif- 
ferently.   "One  bad  investment  does  n't  kill  a  man." 

"He  counts  a  lot  on  this  claim,"  she  asserted. 

"I  suppose  so."  He  nodded  carelessly.  "But  he'll 
just  have  to  try  again." 

Sally  pondered  a  while,  swinging  her  feet.  Then  she 
glanced  at  her  companion.  "I  guess  he'll  try  to  take  it 
out  of  Lim  White,"  she  said,  with  conviction. 

"Why?"  was  his  immediate  question. 

She  shook  the  loosened  coils  of  hair  back  over  her 
shoulders  and  told  him  the  whole  story  of  the  Peterson 
place  as  she  knew  it.  At  the  episode  of  the  woman  "who 
died  because  she  could  n't  keep  the  cabin  warm,"  the 
young  man  frowned.  But  he  did  not  interrupt  her  nar- 
ration of  the  vicissitudes  of  the  many  homesteaders  on 
Old  Man  Peterson's  place  from  the  first  man  down  to  Sim 
Spencer,  the  latest.  Sally  did  not  exaggerate.  At  times 
she  turned  aside  from  the  direct  course  of  her  story  to 
explain  that  "homesteaders  had  to  take  their  chances." 
Some  of  the  history  she  did  not  know.  But  the  main 
thread  of  it  was  in  her  last  words:  "Spencer  wanted  to 
make  a  stake.  He  was  sick,  and  Lim  did  him  up.  His 
claim  ain't  worth  anything  at  all." 

Hal  listened  and  at  the  end  was  silent.  Finally  he  said, 
"Did  he  ever  say  anything  about  me  coming?" 

She  shook  her  head. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         109 

"I  wonder  why  he  brought  me  here,"  he  suggested. 

Sally  swung  herself  down  from  the  log  and  kicked  the 
brush  aside.  "I  don't  know,"  she  said.  "May  be  he 
thought  he  could  do  you  a  good  turn." 

He  gazed  at  her  in  perplexity.  His  thoughts  swiftly 
ran  back  over  all  the  events  that  had  brought  him  to  this 
spot.  It  occurred  to  him  that  Spencer  was  capable  of 
trying  to  help  him.  It  was  certain  that  the  wages  were 
too  high  for  the  work  he  was  doing.  And  then  —  there 
was  the  long  period  wherein  he  had  not  seen  his  mother, 
and  in  that  time  many  things  might  have  happened.  She 
might  have  needed  his  help  in  making  a  living  for  them 
both.  She  might  have  gone  to  Spencer,  as  one  she  knew 
well  and  trusted,  and  asked  him  to  give  her  son  a  start. 
It  was  true  that  everybody  thought  fortunes  were  to  be 
made  in  the  Siletz.  What  more  natural  than  that  Flos- 
setta  Marini  should  think  it  the  best  opportunity  for  her 
son?  Hal  grimaced  at  the  trick  rumor  had  played.  He 
was  taking  wages  from  a  man  who  had  been  cheated,  in 
a  country  where  there  was  no  wealth  but  trees,  and  no 
chance  for  a  young  man  except  in  some  heavy  manual 
toil.  But  his  mother  must  not  know  and  be  chagrined 
and  hurt.  And  Spencer  —  well,  he  thought,  Spencer  was 
ignorant  but  kind.  Spencer  was  doing  his  best.  He  met 
Sally's  eyes  and  said :  "  I  guess  if  Spencer  's  tried  to  do  me 
a  favor,  I  'd  better  come  back  at  him.    My  mother  knows 


110        THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

him.  He  knew  her  years  ago."  He  slid  off  the  log  as 
though  to  start  instantly  to  repay  his  debt  to  his 
employer. 

"Was  yom*  mother  pretty?"  Sally  demanded  incon- 
sequently. 

He  was  taken  aback.  "She's  quite  famous,"  he  replied. 
"She's  the  great  Flossetta  Marini,  the  actress.  She's 
beautiful." 

The  girl's  eyes  softened.  "I  guess  Mr.  Spencer  is 
doing  what  he  thinks  is  right,"  she  affirmed  gently.  Her 
face  grew  dreamily  expressive.  As  they  pushed  through 
the  undergrowth,  she  looked  back  at  him.  "I  expect 
your  mother  just  loves  Mr.  Spencer,"  she  called. 

He  gasped.    "What!" 

She  turned  her  gray  eyes  full  on  him.  "She  must  just 
love  him,"  she  repeated.     "I  know  I  should." 

"They're  only  old  friends,"  he  said  stiffly. 

She  gave  him  a  brilliant  glance.  "You  men  never 
know  how  a  woman  feels." 

As  they  parted  on  the  trail,  she  looked  at  him  again, 
almost  appealingly.     "Are  you  going  to  tell  him?" 

He  nodded.    "I'll  have  to.    I  could  n't  lie  to  him." 

Her  smile  was  sudden  and  warm.  "I  just  see  Lim 
White  getting  his  deserts,"  she  triumphed.  Before  he 
could  form  a  question  as  to  how,  she  vanished. 

His   thoughts    as   he    trudged   homewards   were    un- 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         111 

pleasant.  The  month's  association  with  the  silent,  ner- 
vous Spencer  had  made  him  feel  a  sort  of  dependence 
on  him.  It  hm-t  him  to  have  to  prove  anew  that  this 
man  (who  was  trying  to  do  him  a  favor)  had  been  cheated, 
his  faith  misplaced  when  he  trusted  Lim  White.  Be- 
sides, it  seriously  affected  his  own  prospects.  What 
future  was  there  for  him  in  the  employ  of  a  man  who  had 
been  deceived  at  the  very  outset  of  his  enterprise?  What 
sort  of  a  chump  was  Spencer,  anyway? 

This  brought  up  the  question  of  his  mother,  again. 
He  remembered  her  as  he  had  seen  her  many  years  ago: 
a  delicate,  cheerful  woman;  perfumed,  exuberant,  caress- 
ing. He  thought  that  now,  in  her  old  age,  she  must  be  a 
lively,  gray-haired  old  lady  —  not  elderly,  like  most 
women,  but  beautifully  old.  He  would  like  to  see  her. 
But  why  had  she  been  a  friend  to  this  undeniably  vulgar, 
middle-aged  man?  He  remembered  what  he  had  heard 
of  his  father.  "Probably  father  helped  him  in  some- 
thing," he  thought  loyally,  "and  Spencer  has  always 
had  a  sort  of  claim  on  mother.  Well,  I  suppose  I  must 
do  my  best."  Abandoning  any  surmise  that  it  was 
Spencer,  and  not  himself,  that  was  to  afford  assistance, 
he  virtuously  resolved  to  fulfil  the  obligations  of  his 
family. 

It  was  dark  when  he  entered  the  cabin.  Spencer  was 
sitting  before  the  stove,  his  brilliant  socks  showing  even 


112         THELANDCLAIMERS 

in  the  dim  light.  He  looked  round  when  Hal  entered, 
nodded  and  relapsed  into  himself.  Hal  took  off  his  wet 
clothes  and,  according  to  custom,  went  to  the  shelf  where 
they  kept  the  victuals.  He  took  down  a  pan  of  biscuits 
and  opened  a  can  of  fruit.  When  he  had  prepared  his 
evening  meal  he  remarked  carelessly:  "I  finished  the 
cruise  today." 

Spencer  looked  up.     "How  much  was  it?" 

"At  most  two  million  feet  of  fir.  YouVe  got  plenty 
of  hemlock,  but  hemlock  is  worthless,"  he  said  brutally. 

Spencer  nodded.     "That's  bad." 

"They  say  stumpage  is  only  about  seventy-five  cents 
a  thousand,"  Hal  went  on.  "That  doesn't  leave  you 
much  profit." 

The  elder  man  smiled.  "I  paid  eight  hundred  to  be 
located  here,"  he  remarked. 

"You  were  badly  done,"  was  the  response. 

There  was  silence  for  a  while.  Then  Spencer  got  up, 
stretching  his  arms  nervously.  "I'm  gainin'  weight," 
he  said  irrelevantly.  "In  about  another  month  I'll  be 
fit." 

To  this  Hal  made  no  reply.  He  ate  ravenously. 
Spencer  walked  round  the  cramped  room  and  then  sat 
down  on  the  edge  of  his  bunk.    "Seen  Sally  lately?" 

"Met  her  on  the  trail  today,"  Hal  answered. 

"There's  a  fine  gell,"  Spencer  pursued  calmly.     "I 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         113 

don't  know  when  I  ever  see  a  gell  I  liked  better."  He 
looked  keenly  across  at  his  companion. 

"She's  all  right  for  the  timber,"  was  the  indifferent 
response. 

Spencer  swallowed  and  seemed  on  the  point  of  saying 
more,  but  instead  stared  out  into  the  dusky  interior. 
Later  he  got  slowly  into  bed.  "I  need  the  sleep,"  he 
said  in  explanation.  "I'm  goin'  over  to  the  Agency 
tomorrow." 

The  next  morning  he  stopped  at  McCarthy's  cabin. 
McCarthy  himself  greeted  him,  and  they  talked  the 
gossip  of  the  reservation  until  McCarthy  remarked: 
"I'm  going  to  Portland  in  April." 

"To  witness  for  somebody?"  Spencer  asked  idly. 

"Lim  White's  going  to  prove  up  on  his  claim  over 
Otter  Rock  way,"  was  the  reply. 

"I'm  told  it's  a  valuable  claim,"  Spencer  commented 
quietly. 

"He's  been  offered  twenty  thousand  for  it,"  McCarthy 
responded,  puffing  vigorously  on  his  pipe.  "Lim  cer- 
tainly is  lucky.  The  company  said  they'd  give  him 
twenty  thousand  for  his  final  receipt.  They'll  see  to  it 
that  he  gets  his  patent  all  right." 

Sally  came  to  the  door  and  nodded  to  Spencer.  Her 
eyes  glanced  over  her  father's  slouching  figure  and  then 
rested  on  the  other  man's  meagre  form.    She  seemed  to 


114         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

have  something  to  say,  but  befofe  she  spoke  Spencer 
remarked:   "I  s'pose  he  did  n't  locate  himself  on  it?" 

McCarthy  grinned  in  appreciation  of  the  jest.  "  Lim  *s 
sure  smooth.  That  claim  belonged  to  old  Miss'  Parthe- 
more,  and  Lim  got  her  to  relinquish  to  him  just  before 
she  died.  It  was  nip  and  tuck  whether  he'd  get  her  re- 
linquishment filed  before  she  was  buried.  Her  daughter 
was  figuring  on  getting  in,  as  she  would  if  Lim  had  n't 
got  the  paper  from  her  ma.  I  guess  the  old  lady  was 
sort  of  foolish.  Anyway,  Lim  had  been  making  up  to 
her  girl,  and  I  suppose  she  thought  it  would  all  be  in  the 
family." 

"Mr.  White  didn't  marry  her?"  Spencer  suggested, 
almost  in  a  whisper. 

McCarthy  smiled  grimly.  "No.  Lim  ain't  that 
variety  of  fool.  Bet  Parthemore  was  n't  ever  fair  to 
good-looking,  and  besides,  Lim  —  "  He  broke  off  with 
a  savage  glance  at  his  daughter.  "What  you  gappin' 
at?"  he  demanded. 

Sally  ignored  his  querulous  rebuke  and  looked  at 
Spencer.  "Lim  always  picks  his  party,"  she  said  quizzi- 
cally.    "Whether  it's  timber,  or  a  wife." 

"Yes!"  said  Spencer.  His  voice  was  like  an  explosion, 
and  McCarthy  stared.  But  Spencer's  repression  of 
months  had  strained  his  temper  to  the  breaking  point, 
and  now  he  blazed  out.     "Yes!"    he  sneered  loudly. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         115 

"He  picks  his  party!  And  he  picks  old  ladies  and  help- 
less females  and  dotty  old  codgers!  He's  a  gent,  that 
Lim  White!" 

He  turned  on  McCarthy  so  fiercely  that  that  person 
edged  along  the  bench  with  evident  uneasiness.  "And 
you're  goin'  to  witness  for  him,"  he  shouted,  shaking  his 
fist.  "And  you  think  he's  smart!  And  you'd  sell  your 
soul  to  him!  And  you  hope  to  marry  your  gell  to  him! 
And  you  get  on  your  knees  and  pray  to  Lim  White!  I 
know  ye,  ye  weak-backed,  snivelling,  crooked-fingered 
snipes!  Ain't  there  a  Tnan  in  the  Siletz?  Oh!"  He 
flung  out  clenched  fists  and  shook  with  rage. 

McCarthy's  heavy  brows  drew  down  over  his  eyes. 
"You  better  shut  up,"  he  said  crossly.  "You  got  done 
up,  and  you've  only  got  yourself  to  blame.  What  are 
you  going  to  do?  I  ain't  seen  you  making  any  great 
flourishes  round  Lim  White?  You  seem  to  have  swal- 
lered  your  medicine  all  right,  all  right." 

A  queer  look  came  over  Spencer's  face.  The  rage  that 
twisted  his  features  passed  away.  His  dark  eyes  sud- 
denly dinmaed.  He  dropped  his  arms  to  his  sides.  In  a 
cracked  voice  he  addressed  Sally.  "Excuse  me,  Miss 
Sally;  excuse  me!"  He  stood  for  a  moment,  as  if  re- 
covering himself,  then  walked  slowly  away  and  up  the 
trail. 

McCarthy  grumbled  in  his  beard.     "I  guess  he  sud- 


116        THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

denly  got  cold  feet,"  he  surmised  angrily.  "He  better 
keep  his  mouth  shut/'  His  tones  rose  wrathfully.  "Yep, 
he  better  keep  his  mouth  shut!" 

"I  wouldn't  gabble  too  much  myself,"  Sally  returned 
coldly.  To  herself  she  murmured:  "What  a  queer  look! 
I'll  bet  he  ain't  afraid  of  Lim."  She  pondered  this  a 
while,  reaching  this  conclusion:  "I  wonder  who  he  is 
afraid  of?" 

If  she  had  followed  Spencer  round  the  bend  in  the 
trail  she  would  have  known.  Once  out  of  sight  of  the 
McCarthy's,  his  legs  gave  under  him  and  he  fell  across  a 
rotten  stump,  clutching  in  agony  at  his  breast. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  managed  to  get  to  his  feet  again. 
"The  doc  was  quite  correc',"  he  muttered.  He  stared 
up  at  a  fragment  of  sky,  caught  as  it  were  in  the  tree- 
tops.  "Quite  right,"  he  repeated  weakly.  He  stiffened 
his  shoulders  to  his  increased  burden.  "I  gotta  get  that 
weight  pretty  quick,"  he  admitted.  Then  he  took  up 
the  full  load  of  his  responsibilities  anew.  "I  ain't  no 
quitter!"  he  announced  to  a  chipmunk. 


CHAPTER  IX 

HAL  sat  moodily  in  the  doorway  of  the  cabin.  At 
his  employer's  unexpected  appearance  he  said 
nothing,  apart  from  a  curt  question  why  he  had  not 
gone  to  the  Agency.  "I  found  out  something  I  wanted 
to  know  without  goin'  on,"  was  Spencer's  reply.  Hal 
looked  away,  nodding  with  an  embarrassment  that  did 
not  escape  the  other's  eye. 

"  That  cruise  bother  ye? "  Spencer  remarked  cheer- 
fuUy. 

Hal  looked  at  him  quickly.  "I  was  just  wondering," 
he  said. 

"At  me?  Don't  wonder  at  me.  I'm  always  makin'  a 
joke,  me  boy." 

Marini  glanced  round  over  the  dreary  clearing.  "This 
is  a  queer  joke,"  he  grumbled. 

"I'm  pajdn'  for  it,"  was  the  brief  answer.  "What's  on 
your  chest?  " 

"I  don't  see  where  I  come  in,"  the  young  man  com- 
menced abruptly.  "You  send  for  me  and  pay  me  a 
salary,  and  when  I've  been  here  six  weeks  the  whole 


118        THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

thing  goes  up  in  the  air.  It  is  n't  fair  to  you  that  I  should 
stay  on.    I  can't  be  of  any  use  that  I  can  see." 

Spencer  nodded.  "I  see  your  point.  You  hate  to 
work  for  a  darned  fool." 

A  quick  gesture  of  denial  only  brought  a  smile  to 
Spencer's  face.  "That's  the  way  you  feel,"  he  said, 
with  assurance.  "'Nd  I  don't  blame  ye.  But  I  got 
several  plans,  and  I  need  ye.  I  ain't  kickin'  on  payin' 
your  salary.     Do  you  get  it?  " 

Marini  was  silent  a  while.  Then  he  leaned  forward. 
"Look  here,"  he  said  curtly.  "I'd  like  to  know  just  why 
you  brought  me  out  from  the  East  and  why  you're  pay- 
ing me  for  doing  nothing." 

Spencer's  face  reddened  slightly.  "I  tell  ye  I  needed 
a  man  here,  and  your  mother  let  me  know  you  was  done 
your  schoolin'  and  I  made  bold  to  say  I'd  like  ye  here. 
It  ain't  doin'  ye  any  harm,"  he  finished  doggedly. 

The  discussion  ended,  but  the  elder  knew  that  in  the 
young  man's  mind  it  was  still  going  on.  "I  gotta  do  it 
up  brown,"  he  said  to  himself,  "'nd  do  it  quick."  The 
result  of  this  decision  was  that  he  devoted  himself  the 
rest  of  the  day  to  cramming  himself  with  food  in  the  in- 
tervals of  strange  exercise  with  the  ax.  The  next  morn- 
ing Hal  accepted  Spencer's  suggestion  that  there  was 
good  fishing  in  a  stream  a  couple  of  miles  away  and  de- 
parted for  it  with  rod  and  creel.    Spencer  insisted  that 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         119 

he  fill  his  basket  with  victuals.  "It*s  breedin'  some 
weather,"  he  alleged.  "You  might  have  to  camp  out. 
Besides,  you  might  lose  your  way." 

To  this  the  young  man's  response  was  a  snort.  As  he 
left  he  called  back:  "FU  be  back  before  sundown." 

Spencer  waved  his  hand  and  went  on  with  his  chop- 
ping. Then  a  thought  struck  him.  He  hallooed  across 
the  clearing:  "Stop  at  McCarthy's  and  see  if  the  packer 
left  any  letters." 

Hal  found  the  McCarthy  cabin  empty  and  after  a  mo- 
ment's rest  went  on  along  the  westward  trail  to  find  the 
trout  stream.  As  he  made  his  way  quickly  over  the 
irregularities  of  the  narrow  path,  his  thoughts  were  busy 
with  his  present  plight.  He  tried  to  explain  satisfactorily 
to  himself  Spencer's  attitude.  He  tried  to  make  some- 
thing out  of  the  failure  of  the  claim,  the  general  gossip 
which  he  had  heard  about  White.  Then  he  wondered 
what  connection  his  mother  had  had  with  his  being  sud- 
denly transported  to  this  out-of-the-way  spot.  "Poor 
old  mother!"  he  thought  fondly.  "I  suppose  she  im- 
agined this  was  one  road  to  fortune."  He  contemplated 
this,  and  his  heart  grew  lighter.  He  knew  that  other 
men  had  made,  were  making,  their  fortune  in  the  Siletz. 
He  could  do  it  himself.  Probably  that  was  what  Spencer 
was  arranging.  But  Spencer  was  easily  taken  in.  One 
had  to  look  out  for  one's  self.    With  youth's  buoyancy  he 


120         THELANDCLAIMERS 

recovered  his  spirits,  and  when  he  finally  came  to  the* 
stream  that  promised  sport  he  was  once  more  sm-e  that, 
after  all,  he  was  at  the  gate  of  a  career.  He  rigged  his 
rod  and  skirted  the  banks  of  a  pool  till  he  came  to  the 
riffle.  He  cast  his  fly  awkwardly  but  was  rewarded  by  a 
rise  that  made  him  forget  everything  in  the  exhilaration 
of  good  fishing. 

As  hour  after  hour  passed,  he  waded  and  scrambled 
and  climbed  his  way  up  the  creek,  regardless  of  time  or 
the  darkening  sky  above  the  towering  hills.  Suddenly, 
hauling  himself  up  over  a  wind-fall,  he  came  upon  a  long 
green  pool  lying  between  two  sheer,  rocky  bluffs.  On 
one  side  he  saw  that  the  water  lay  deep  and  still,  with- 
out a  shallow  for  his  feet.  On  the  other  side  gray  shelves 
of  rock  projected  under  the  surface  from  the  canyon 
wall,  affording  a  treacherous  footway.  He  stopped, 
made  a  futile  cast  in  the  rifile  at  the  foot  of  the  pool  and 
then  essayed  to  proceed  along  the  little  shelves  that 
offered  foothold  a  few  inches  beneath  the  surface  of  the 
water.  For  a  hundred  feet  he  made  safe  progress.  There 
he  found  himself  halted.  A  gap  of  at  least  ten  feet  in- 
tervened between  him  and  the  continuation  of  the  ledge. 
He  was  standing  to  his  knees  in  the  chill  water  and  just 
overhead  an  alder  reached  down  slender  fingers  that 
brushed  his  cap.  Sounding  with  his  rod,  he  failed  to 
find  bottom.    He  could  not  cast  his  fly  or  even  keep  his 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         121 

rod  free  from  the  overhanging  growths.  He  turned,  un- 
willingly, to  retrace  his  steps. 

He  laughed  when  he  saw  his  predicament.  A  gentle 
breeze  had  begun  to  blow  down  the  canyon.  The  ripples 
were  at  his  feet  and  hid  from  view  with  their  impene- 
trable facets  any  glimpse  of  the  shelf  on  which  he  was 
standing,  as  well  as  the  ledge  he  must  traverse  to  regain 
the  shore.  Remembering  the  gaps,  irregularities  and 
slipperiness  of  the  road  he  had  come,  he  knew  he  must 
trust  to  luck  not  to  set  his  foot  down  and  find  nothing 
but  water  beneath. 

His  thoughts  were  instantly  changed  to  new  channels. 
He  wondered  how  far  up  the  stream  he  was.  He  looked 
up  at  the  sky.  Dun  clouds  were  above  him,  and  their 
movement  told  him  that  a  heavy  wind  propelled  them. 
A  few  drops  of  rain  struck  his  upturned  face.  Then, 
with  the  suddenness  of  an  explosion,  the  canyon  was 
filled  with  swirling  rain  and  the  pool's  color  changed 
from  still  green  to  tumbled  gray.  Depth  and  shallow 
were  alike  hid.  He  tried  to  change  his  footing.  A  slip 
warned  against  venturing  too  much.  With  some  diflS- 
culty  he  twisted  his  head  round  till  he  could  see  what 
hope  there  was  of  scaling  the  bluff.  The  alder  now  waved 
its  pale  boughs  just  out  of  reach.  As  his  foot  slipped 
again  he  leaped  to  catch  it.  A  moment  later  he  was 
fighting  his  way  to  the  surface  of  the  pool. 


122        THELANDCLAIMERS 

Not  till  then  did  he  realize  his  plight.  He  swam  to 
the  ledge  and  tried  to  climb  upon  it.  But  it  was  merely 
a  slippery  shelf,  and  each  time  he  attempted  to  swing 
his  body  up  on  it  his  legs  would  dive  under  it,  his  hands 
lost  their  hold,  and  he  was  compelled  to  swim.  The 
third  failure  brought  hot  blood  to  his  eyes.  Weighted 
down  with  creel,  heavy  jacket  and  laced  boots,  he  felt 
his  helplessness.  Heaving  himself  up  out  of  the  water 
for  an  instant  he  sought  to  determine  his  position.  But 
the  rain  veiled  the  pool,  and  in  his  distress  he  did  not 
know  which  was  down  stream  and  which  was  up. 

As  a  last  resort  he  tried  to  float  and  trust  to  the  im- 
perceptible current.  As  he  stared  up,  with  the  noise  of 
the  water  drumming  in  his  ears,  he  perceived  that  he  saw 
nothing.  Even  the  alder,  by  which  he  should  have  been 
able  to  discern  his  position,  was  invisible.  Vaguely,  in- 
deed, he  could  discern  the  walls  of  the  canyon.  He  struck 
out  again  for  one  of  them  and  found  it  was  the  one  where 
there  was  no  footing.  By  incredible  effort  he  managed 
to  cross  the  pool.  To  his  delight  he  saw  the  alder.  But 
he  could  not  grasp  its  lowest  twig.  He  cleared  his  mouth 
of  water  and  cried  out  with  all  his  strength,  then  sank. 

The  profound  depths,  chill,  unsunned,  shocked  his 
weary  muscles  into  fresh  effort.  As  he  emerged  above  the 
surface  once  more,  he  thought  he  heard  a  cry.  Then  he 
felt  a  slight  tug  on  his  shoulder.    He  spun  over  and  some- 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         123 

thing  wrapped  his  arms,  held  them  in  a  gentle  grip  that 
he  could  not  throw  off.  He  saw  his  rod  floating  near  and 
gave  up  the  battle.  He  had  become  entangled  in  its  line 
.  .  .  struggle  was  useless  .  .  . 

Sally,  waist-deep  at  the  riffle,  her  pole  bent  almost  to 
breaking,  reeled  in  slowly.  The  pelting  rain  beat  on  her 
bare  head  and  streamed  down  her  set  face.  Now  and 
then  she  dipped  her  pole  and  eased  the  reel.  Once,  when 
the  line  slackened  lightly,  as  though  released,  she  bit 
into  her  lip.  But  the  line  tautened  again,  with  a  jerk, 
and  she  caught  up  a  few  more  yards.  There  was  a  swirl 
in  the  water.  It  grew  dim  and  then  started  forth  more 
clearly  in  the  rain-lashed  pool.  A  dark  something  material- 
ized with  a  surge  and  sank.  Her  line  crept  out,  and  the 
pole  gave  till  she  had  to  release  the  reel.  A  moment  later 
she  had  recovered  the  lost  line,  and  now  she  let  her  tip 
fall  slowly  till  all  the  strain  was  on  the  slender  threads. 
Then  the  current  caught  the  burden  and  the  line  slacked. 
She  moved  to  the  right  a  step,  braced  herself,  and  as  an 
arm  rolled  out  of  the  water  caught  it. 

For  an  instant  the  dead  weight  of  the  body  increased 
till  her  feet  slipped  on  the  round  stones.  The  current 
tugged  at  her.  Her  face  set  in  desperation.  She  dropped 
her  pole  and  with  both  arms  reached  down  swiftly  and 
heaved  her  catch  up,  out  of  the  grip  of  the  riffling  water. 
Then,  unsteadily,  feeling  for  each  foothold,  she  waded  out 


124         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

on  the  shale  half  carrying,  half  dragging  the  body  of  Hal 
Marini. 

She  let  it  lapse  from  her  arms  to  the  beach  and  quickly 
rolled  it  face  downwards.  She  rolled  him  back  and  stooped 
to  feel  under  his  sodden  shirt  for  a  heart-beat.  Satis- 
fied, she  knelt  over  him  and  started  to  rub  his  limbs. 

He  was  not  long  in  reviving.  He  opened  his  eyes  and 
choked.  She  watched  him  curiously  till  the  purple  re- 
ceded from  his  face  and  was  followed  by  a  more  healthy 
color.  "My  sakes!"  she  said  huskily.  "You  swallowed 
a  heap  of  water!" 

He  looked  at  her  with  dazed  eyes,  as  he  sat  up.  "I 
thought  I  was  drowned,''  he  gasped. 

"You  would  have  been  if  I  had  n't  been  a  better  fisher- 
man than  you,"  she  said,  getting  to  her  feet  and  wringing 
the  water  from  her  short  skirt. 

He  glanced  around,  comprehending  the  turbid  pool, 
the  driving  rain,  the  girl  in  her  dripping  clothes.  He  got 
weakly  to  his  feet  and  stared  down  at  the  creel,  spilling 
trout  on  the  pebbles.  He  laughed,  chokingly.  "You 
saved  my  life,  didn't  you?" 

Her  cool  gray  eyes  met  his.  "I  s'pose  that's  what  I 
did,"  she  answered  indifferently.  "But  of  course  I  did  n't 
know  it  was  you." 

He  puzzled  over  this.  "Wouldn't  you  have  done  as 
much  for  me?" 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         125 

She  laughed.  "  You  ought  to  have  seen  the  cast  I  made, " 
she  remarked.  "I  had  a  brown  heckle  and  a  yellow 
coachman  on.     Which  did  you  bite  at?" 

He  threw  his  left  hand  over  and  caught  the  fly,  still 
fast  in  the  shoulder  of  his  jacket.  Disengaging  it,  he 
made  a  solemn  examination.  "The  yellow  coachman," 
he  announced. 

She  picked  up  her  rod,  which  had  floated  into  an  eddy, 
and  started  to  reel  in  the  line.  "I  s'pose  you're  ready  to 
go  home,"  she  suggested. 

He  blushed.     "  How  far  is  it?  " 

"Three  miles  down  the  creek  and  two  miles  on  the 
trail,"  she  replied  shortly. 

"Are  n't  you  coming?"  he  inquired. 

She  snapped  the  leader  from  the  line  and  unjointed  her 
rod.    "You  spoiled  my  flies,"  she  remarked. 

He  reached  into  his  jacket  pocket  and  brought  out  his 
flybook.     "Let  me  replace  them." 

As  he  took  the  flies  out  with  trembling  fingers, 
she  watched  him  intently.  He  handed  them  to  her, 
and  she  received  them  without  a  word,  afterwards 
sticking  them  in  her  cap,  which  she  recovered  from 
a  limb.  He  glanced  at  her  timidly  and  then  picked 
up  his  creel.  "I'm  sorry,"  he  said,  "but  I  ate  up 
all  my  luncheon." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you're  hungry?  " 


126         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

He  shivered.  She  nodded  vigorously.  "Poor  man, 
you're  cold!" 

"  I  think  we  had  better  be  moving  on/'  he  answered. 

She  gathered  up  her  pole  and  kicked  each  foot  to  get 
the  surplus  water  from  her  boots.  Then  she  turned  to  him. 
"We'll  have  a  hard  time  getting  back  in  the  dark,  specially 
in  this  storm." 

"Is  it  so  late?" 

She  looked  up  at  the  lowering  clouds.  "Almost  night. 
Come  on  I" 

Sally  led  the  way  down  the  stream.  They  climbed  over 
logs,  waded  riffles  and  skirted  pools  till  the  darkness  sud- 
denly settled  down  about  them,  and  Hal  could  not  even 
see  the  white  of  the  rapids.  Overhead  the  rising  wind 
roared  unceasingly,  shaking  huge  flurries  of  rain  down  on 
them  as  they  clambered  under  the  high  banks.  The  girl 
stopped  and  stamped  her  foot  angrily.  "We've  got  to 
camp." 

"Where?" 

She  indicated  vaguely  the  forest  above  them  and  dived 
up  into  the  brush.  He  followed  her  as  best  he  could  for  a 
few  yards  and  then  ran  into  her  in  the  dark.  "There's  a 
dead  tree  here,"  she  told  him.    "  Got  any  dry  matches?  " 

He  felt  in  his  pocket  and  whistled. 

"  And  you  a  smoker ! "  Her  contempt  was  deep.  "  Let 's 
see  what  I  can  do." 


THE  LAND    CLAIMERS        127 

He  stood  an  interminable  time,  waist  deep  in  dank 
undergrowth,  while  she  found  the  little  rubber  sack  in 
which  she  carried  such  necessities.  The  matches  found, 
she  groped  about  on  the  ground  till  she  found  the  crum- 
bling dead  wood  she  sought.  Five  minutes  later  Hal  was 
on  his  knees  blowing  the  coals  into  flame,  while  Sally 
carefully  replaced  in  the  sack  the  bit  of  candle  she  had 
used  for  kindling.  Then  she  took  her  knife  and  hacked 
savagely  at  a  spruce  limb,  throwing  the  chips  over  to  him. 
So  they  gained  a  fire. 

By  its  feeble  light  they  searched  farther,  and  under 
a  huge  fallen  fir  Sally  picked  out  their  camping  place. 
She  scraped  out  the  wet  moss  and  then  showed  him  how 
to  transport  the  fire  to  a  dry  place  in  his  jacket.  As  it 
gained  strength,  they  fed  it  high  with  dry  branches, 
putting  a  last  touch  to  it  by  an  armful  of  salal,  which 
instantly  flamed  up  like  a  torch. 

The  warmth  thawed  them  both,  and  Hal  went  through 
his  pockets  for  crumbs  of  tobacco  to  dry  on  a  chip.  Sally, 
smiling,  drew  from  her  rubber  sack  a  piece  of  bacon  and 
a  couple  of  boiled  eggs.  "We'll  have  quite  a  dinner,"  she 
remarked. 

He  refused  to  share  it  with  her,  and  she  did  not  press 
him,  swallowing  the  last  bite  without  apology.  Then  she 
built  up  the  fire  with  knots  torn  from  a  dead  sapling 
and  curled  herself  under  the  log,  feet  to  the  blaze.    Hal, 


128         THELANDCLAIMERS 

managing  a  cigarette,  sat  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire 
and  smoked. 

Above  them  the  gale  thundered  its  deep  note.  The 
ground  trembled  beneath  them  as  the  timber  yielded  to 
the  blast  and  careered  to  its  fall  with  bellow  and  crash. 
Once  the  log  that  sheltered  them  gave  creakingly  and  she 
smiled,  unsteadily.  "We  may  be  sorry  we^re  under  it," 
she  remarked. 

He  sought  her  tremulous  eyes.  "There'll  be  two  of 
us,"  he  comforted  her. 

Her  eyes  did  not  respond.    "  I  'm  not  ready  to  relinquish 

yet." 

An  hour  she  slept,  cheek  pillowed  on  hand.  Hal  watched . 
her,  with  a  faint  smile  on  his  face.  Now  and  then  he  got 
up  and  got  more  fuel.  At  last  a  thought  struck  him.  He 
drew  his  creel  to  him  and  picked  out  a  trout.  This  he 
cleaned  and  put  on  a  stick  over  the  coals.  It  roasted 
quickly  and  he  drew  it  from  the  spit  with  great  satisfaction. 
While  he  devoured  it,  Sally  opened  her  eyes.  "My  sakes! 
it  took  you  a  long  time  to  find  that  out!"  she  murmured. 

"And  I  thought  you  were  selfish  to  eat  all  that  egg  and 
bacon  by  yourself,"  he  ventured. 

"You  said  you  did  n't  want  any  of  it,"  she  replied. 

"But  you  never  told  me  I  could  cook  my  fish,"  he 
retorted. 

Her  eyes  rested  on  him  softly.     "I  didn't  catch  any 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         129 

fish.  You  had  a  creel  full.  And  you  never  offered  me 
one." 

He  tossed  the  remnant  into  the  brush  and  spread  out 
his  jacket  to  dry.  She  shook  her  head.  "  It  11  stay  warmer 
if  you  keep  it  on." 

"You  watch,"  he  returned. 

The  fire  flamed  up  gradually  as  the  fuel  dried  out,  and 
their  little  shelter  was  illuminated  like  a  spot  of  light  in 
a  vast,  dark  cavern.  The  girl,  lying  in  her  steaming 
clothes,  seemed  drowsy,  and  Hal  wondered  whether  it 
would  be  possible  for  her  really  to  go  to  sleep  again.  He 
himself  felt  a  great  reaction  of  excitement  from  the  numb- 
ness that  followed  his  accident.  Sleep  seemed  futile.  His 
brightened  eyes  glanced  round  him  with  the  zest  of  ad- 
venture. All  his  commonplace  life  he  had  longed  for 
something  such  as  this  was  likely  to  prove.  He  even 
hummed  a  song.  "^ 

His  jacket  dried  slowly  as  he  turned  it  first  on  one  side 
and  then  the  other.  He  noticed  that  when  he  had  got  one 
side  dry  and  spread  the  other  to  the  fire  the  moisture  was 
driven  through,  so  that  his  task  seemed  endless.  At  last 
he  devised  a  plan  and  hung  it  on  a  limb  and  over  the  fire. 
He  was  gratified  to  discover  that  a  half  hour  sufficed  to 
make  it  comfortable  to  wear.  With  it  in  his  hand  he  rose 
and  crossed  over  to  Sally.  "Take  off  that  wet  coat,"  he 
ordered,  "and  slip  this  on." 


130         THELANDCLAIMERS 

She  gazed  up  at  him  and  then  obediently  took  her  own 
dripping  jacket  off  and  donned  the  one  he  offered.  As 
she  settled  down  again,  he  smiled.  "I  believe  that  was 
the  proper  thing  to  do,"  he  remarked.  "All  the  men  I 
ever  read  of  gave  their  coats  to  the  woman  in  the  case. 
I  feel  quite  like  a  hero." 

She  nodded,  thrusting  her  hands  into  the  pockets.  He 
scraped  a  place  clear  against  the  log  and  sat  down.  "In 
fact,  this  is  a  real  adventure,"  he  continued. 

"I  wonder  if  Mr.  Spencer  is  worried  about  you,"  she 
suggested. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  replied.  "He  insisted  on  my 
bringing  some  luncheon  as  he  said  I  might  get  lost.  But 
he  won't  worry  very  much.  He  knows  I  can  take  care  of 
myself." 

"If  the  water  is  n't  too  deep,"  she  corrected.  Her  face 
lit  up  with  a  smile.  "Do  you  know,"  she  piu-sued,  "I 
was  quite  disappointed." 

"How?" 

"I  always  read  that  when  a  girl  fished  a  man  out  of 
the  water  she  said  it  was  nothing  at  all  and  refused  to 
accept  thanks.  I  forgot  and  now  I've  got  your  coat 
on. 

"Also  the  man  always  marries  the  girl  in  books,"  he 
said  lightly. 

Though  he  could  detect  no  change  in  her  expression, 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         131 

he  suddenly  felt  the  chill  of  her  attitude.  Deeper  than 
an  emotion  or  a  feeling,  it  was  almost  a  congealing  of  her 
spirit,  a  dense  reserve  behind  which  he  could  not  penetrate. 
A  moment  before  she  had  been  a  picture  amid  the  dark- 
ness of  their  poor  refuge.  Now  she  was  a  part  of  the 
forest  elemental,  with  the  stream  roaring  below  them, 
with  the  wind  bellowing  above,  with  the  firs  rising  into 
the  tempest  from  the  cold  and  sunless  earth.  He  voiced 
his  thought  abruptly.    "I  believe  you  have  n't  a  soul!" 

Her  tones  carried  clearly  back  to  him.  "Because  I 
have  n't  offered  to  marry  you?  " 

"I  did  n't  ask  you  that,"  he  responded. 

She  smiled.     "But  you  might  have." 

He  was  amazed,  and  peered  at  her  to  see  whether  he 
might  discover  her  purpose.  He  feared  she  was  mocking 
him.    Discomfited,  he  fell  into  a  sullen  silence. 

The  gale  gathered  strength  as  the  night  grew.  The  far 
thunder  of  falling  timber  reverberated  among  the  hills 
and  pealed  up  the  canyon.  It  was  varied  by  the  boom  of 
the  stream  swelling  below  them,  the  groan  of  riven  stumps, 
the  sharp  musketry  of  snapping  roots.  Through  it  all  the 
young  man  sat  listless  and  indifferent.  Occasionally  he 
fed  the  fire.  Each  time  he  stared  over  at  the  girl,  and 
each  time  her  steady  eyes  met  his  coldly. 

The  pouring  rain  invisibly  worked  through  the  soil 
beneath  them  and  gathered  in  subterranean  pools.    An 


132        THE    LAND  CLAIMERS 

experienced  timberman  would  have  been  warned  by  the 
softening  of  the  ground.  But  neither  Marini  nor  Sally 
observed  that  the  mass  of  fallen  brush,  moss,  twigs  and 
roots  was  loosening  under  them.  So  it  happened  that 
the  little  bench  on  which  they  had  fixed  their  camp  sud- 
denly slipped  away  towards  the  creek,  and  Hal,  leaping 
to  his  feet,  stared  into  a  darkness  that  moved  and  crept 
and  whispered  about  him.  A  huge  weight  settled,  almost 
imperceptibly,  upon  one  shoulder.  He  flung  his  hand 
out,  and  it  met  the  rough  bark  of  the  log  that  formed  their 
refuge.  With  animal  instinct  he  delved  under  it  and 
fought  his  way  beyond  it  through  the  undergrowth. 
Suddenly  he  remembered  Sally.  He  stopped,  listened, 
and  then  slid  down  the  now  miry  slope,  crying,  "Where 
are  you?" 

She  came  into  his  arms  from  the  darkness;  sobbing, 
shuddering  in  pure  terror.  Unastonished,  he  clasped  her 
closely  and  struggled  up  the  yielding  declivity.  As  he 
progressed,  damp  limbs  were  thrust  out  to  hold  him, 
roots  caught  at  his  feet,  creepers  twined  about  his  legs. 
But  he  scrambled  on  and  upward  till  a  big  stump  gave 
them  foothold  and  shelter.  Against  its  immovable 
strength  he  threw  himself,  still  clutching  the  girl,  for  an 
instant's  breathing  and  rest.  The  ground  he  had  traversed 
sloughed  away  and  sucked  slowly  into  the  stream  below. 

Finding  his  new  footing  secure,  he  allowed  Sally  to  slip 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         133 

down  against  the  huge  roots  while  he  stooped  to  feel  what 
was  underfoot.  The  sharp  branches  of  a  salal  bush  pricked 
his  fingers.  The  girl  sank  into  it  and  he  knelt  beside  her. 
Trembling  arms  went  round  his  neck.  He  half  turned  and 
drew  her  close.  From  a  dark  cloud  a  slender  rod  of 
lightning  darted  earthward.  By  its  flash  he  saw  Sally's 
face.  Her  wide  eyes  stared  into  his  appealingly.  "Fm 
afraid!"  she  cried. 

He  rejoiced  in  her  cry.  In  that  moment  he  felt  equal 
to  defending  her  against  all  nature.  With  rough  tender- 
ness he  straightened  himself  up  beside  her  and  smiled  into 
the  murk.  Timber  crashed  and  the  earth  shook.  With 
open  eyes  he  stared  into  the  turmoil  —  and  thought  of  a 
brilliant  life  in  which  the  girl  at  his  side  had  no  part.  He 
forgot  her,  lost  the  present  in  the  gorgeous  days  to  come. 
Dawn  found  him  unchilled,  still  holding  Sally  gently  in 
his  arms. 

She  woke  and  without  stirring  looked  up  into  his  face. 
His  eyes  were  set  on  the  black  hills,  and  she  perceived  that 
he  was  unconscious  of  her  presence.  For  a  moment  only 
she  looked;  then  with  a  gentle  effort  she  disengaged  her- 
self and  sat  up  alone.  He  turned  quickly  and  she  smiled 
frankly.    "My  sakes,  but  I  was  scared!" 

He  nodded.  "It  was  a  narrow  escape.  I  don^t  blame 
you."  He  stretched  his  stiffened  arms  and  stumbled  to  his 
feet.     "I'm  hungry,"  he  said. 


134        THE  LAND    CLAIMERS 

Sally  nodded,  brushing  her  hair  back  from  her  forehead. 
"We'll  hurry  home  and  have  some  breakfast." 

When  they  reached  the  trail  he  said,  "That  was  quite 
an  adventure/ 

"You  tell  Mr.  Spencer  not  to  let  you  out  alone  in  the 
timber  after  this,"  she  warned  him.    "  It  is  n't  safe." 

"I'll  tell  him  you  saved  my  life,"  he  answered  simply. 
His  face  broke  into  a  smile.  "  I  must  tell  my  mother  how 
you  fished  me  out,  too." 

Sally  sniffed.  "She'll  write  and  tell  you  to  be  more 
careful  and  then  she'll  want  to  know  whether  I'm  pretty," 
she  asserted. 

He  stared.  "I  say,  that's  odd.  She  always  wants  to 
know  about  how  the  girls  I  meet  look." 

"I  don't  remember  about  my  mother,"  she  replied 
simply.  "But  I  s'pose  she'd  want  to  know  about  all  the 
boys  I  met.  At  least  I  always  think  so.  It  seems  to  —  " 
she  glanced  at  him  shyly  —  "it  seems  to  bring  her  closer." 

He  did  not  know  that  this  was  the  first  time  Sally  had 
ever  confided  an  intimate  thought  to  anybody.  But  it 
affected  him.  He  found  nothing  to  say  except,  "  I  have  n't 
seen  my  mother  since  I  was  a  boy." 

They  found  McCarthy  seated  on  the  bench  outside  his 
cabin,  in  spite  of  the  still  falling  rain.  Sally  explained 
briefly  that  she  had  met  Marini  on  Little  Creek  and  that 
they  had  had  to  spend  the  night  under  a  tree.    McCarthy 


THE  LAND    CL AIMERS         135 

grunted,  and  when  his  daughter  had  gone  in,  invited  the 
young  man  to  seat  himself.  "You're  wetter 'n  a  clam  at 
high  tide  and  you  can't  get  no  wetter,"  he  remarked. 

"  I  fell  in,"  was  the  reply.  The  old  man  grunted  again 
but  did  not  inquire  the  circumstances.  But  when  Sally, 
after  preparing  breakfast,  came  out,  and  Hal  stum- 
blingly  thanked  her  for  saving  his  life,  McCarthy  looked 
keenly  at  them  both.  When  Hal  had  struggled  through 
with  what  he  felt  was  only  common  civility,  the  old  man 
fixed  him  with  hard  eyes  and  said  roughly:  "I  guess  the 
girl  would  have  done  as  much  for  anybody." 

"Of  course,"  he  assented.  "Only,  as  it  was  I,  I  feel 
rather  grateful." 

He  ate  some  breakfast  and  departed.  As  he  disap- 
peared, McCarthy  stepped  into  the  cabin.  "Is  that 
Spencer's  side-partner?"  he  demanded. 

His  daughter  replied  that  it  was,  and  McCarthy  growled: 
"Well,  don't  save  his  life  any  more.  And  don't  fall  in 
love  with  him.  I  won't  have  it.  He  probably  ain't  worth 
a  dollar." 

Sally  elevated  her  chin  and  was  silent.  "I  say  I  won't 
have  it!"  her  father  repeated. 

"That's  what  you  say  every  time  any  good-looking 
young  fellow  comes  round,"  Sally  retorted.  "I'm  tired 
of  it.  I'm  not  falling  in  love  with  anybody.  Besides, 
it's  my  business." 


136         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

McCarthy  took  this  in  good  part.  "Well,  don't  get 
het  up  about  it,"  he  said  soothingly,  confident  that  in 
this  case  his  daughter's  heart  was  untouched;  other- 
wise (he  argued)  she  would  not  have  spoken  so  decidedly 
nor  been  so  stubborn.  "  S'  long  as  she  don't  get  quiet  and 
say  nothing,  like  her  ma,  she's  all  right,"  he  thought. 


CHAPTER  X 

SPENCER  opened  his  eyes  wide  when  Hal  Marini 
trudged  across  the  clearing  hatless,  without  creel  or 
rod,  and  mud  from  head  to  toe.  When  that  young  man 
had  explained  his  plight  and  described  the  mode  of  his 
rescue,  the  elder,  secretly  delighted,  assumed  an  air  of 
indifference.  "You  better  change  your  duds,"  he  said 
briefly.    "That  gell  seems  to  be  a  good  fisherman." 

Later  Hal  narrated  the  events  of  the  night.  He  omitted 
to  mention  Sally's  fear.  He  did  not  tell  how  she  had  fled 
to  him  for  protection.  Spencer  listened  quietly.  Then 
he  remarked:  "I  always  liked  that  gell.  I  hope  she'll 
marry  some  first-rate  feller." 

"Some  timberman,"  Hal  said  carelessly.  "I  suppose 
she'll  be  in  luck  if  he  don't  beat  her." 

"She'll  marry  some  well  educated  chap  with  lots  of 
money,"  Spencer  said  positively.  "She's  worth  a  mil- 
lion ordinary  gells." 

Hal's  smile  was  indulgent.  "She's  had  no  advan- 
tages," he  remarked.  "I  guess  she'll  have  to  content 
herself  with  a  man  of  her  own  class." 


138         THELANDCLAIMERS 

"Advantages  or  no  advantages,  class  or  no  class/' 
Spencer  retorted  hotly.  "Sally  is  worth  the  best  chap 
the  world  can  give  her.'' 

His  companion  nodded.  "I  know  how  one  feels  about 
those  things.  But  then  —  look  at  the  other  side.  Now, 
what  would  my  mother  say  if  I  married  some  girl  like 
Sally?  Short  skirt,  boots  and  tan?  Raised  in  the  woods 
and  as  ignorant  as  a  humming-bird?  A  fellow  's  got  to 
think  of  those  things." 

"You  seem  to  be  thinking  of  them,''  Spencer  returned 
acidly.     "Has  anybody  proposed  to  you  lately?" 

Hal  tried  to  maintain  a  look  of  dignity.  But  his  sense 
of  the  ridiculous  saved  him  and  he  laughed.  "  I  was  just 
showing  you  a  fellow's  point  of  view,"  he  explained. 

Spencer  rose,  stretching  his  arms.  "I  guess  you  think 
the  gell  wants  to  marry  you  because  she  fished  you  out 
of  the  water.  I  reckon  you've  got  another  guess  coming 
to  you."  He  picked  up  the  ax  and  went  out  into  the 
clearing. 

He  chopped  feebly  a  while  and  then  sat  down  to  smoke. 
"Of  all  the  mix-ups,"  he  muttered  to  himself.  "There's 
this  rotten  old  claim  —  not  worth  a  whoop.  There's 
Flossetta  Marini  expectin'  me  to  dry-nurse  her  son  and 
keep  him  from  sky-hoodlin'  down  to  'Frisco  to  find  out 
she's  no  famous  star,  but  in  vaudeville;  and  there's 
Sally,  fightin'  to  have  a  happy  life  in  spite  of  her  old  pap 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         139 

and  that  skunk  White."  He  shook  his  head.  "*Nd 
there's  old  Sim  Spencer,  with  one  lung,  to  straighten  'em 
all  out.     I  gotta  do  it  quick,  too." 

He  pondered  his  problem  for  hours,  sitting  on  a  log 
amid  the  brush.  The  thought  that  made  him  squirm 
was  the  knowledge  that  within  a  few  weeks  White  would 
go  to  Portland  and  prove  up  on  a  claim  that  did  not  be- 
long to  him,  but  to  a  homely  girl  whose  dying  mother 
had  been  cheated  of  everything  but  death.  Spencer  was 
not  quixotic;  he  cared  little  for  the  defrauded  woman. 
But  it  stung  his  rough  sense  of  justice  that  the  smooth 
cheat  should  go  unwhipped  while  there  were  men  around. 
Having  lived  in  and  enjoyed  a  society  where  physical 
violence  reigned  and  strength  ruled,  he  saw  no  other 
way  of  avenging  himself  and  outraged  justice  on  White 
than  by  brute  force.  "If  I  could  only  get  him  where  I 
want  him!  "  he  ejaculated. 

He  was  not  in  doubt  as  to  White's  designs  upon  Sally 
and  sniffed  contemptuously  at  thought  of  her  weak 
father,  who  would  marry  his  daughter  to  the  devil  for 
gain.  One  part  of  his  problem  was  wholly  dark:  How 
was  he  to  bring  about  a  plan  in  which  Sally  and  Hal  each 
had  a  share?  For  Spencer,  with  a  sigh,  had  accepted  it 
as  a  fact  that  everything  he  hoped  for  must  be  done  at 
once.  He  swore  violently  when  he  recalled  the  young 
man's  announcement  of  his  social  doctrine  of  marriage. 


140         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

It  was  especially  hard  upon  the  elder  man,  because  that 
very  doctrine  had  been  bitterly  accepted  by  him  years 
before.  His  resignation  to  it  had  been  silent.  It  had 
borne  most  heavily  upon  himself,  and  his  had  been  the 
first  sacrifice.  He  had  silently  given  up  Flossetta  Marini, 
whom  he  loved,  whom  he  still  loved.  He  did  not  pro- 
pose that  Sally  should  be  a  victim  to  any  such  artificial 
standard. 

"The  world  was  made  in  a  week,"  he  grumbled  to  him- 
self. "'Nd  I've  got  the  same  time  to  repair  it  in.**  He 
glowered  at  the  leaden  sky. 

He  emerged  from  his  retreat  to  see  the  scout  striding 
across  the  creek  bottom.  They  greeted  each  other  curtly 
and  the  scout,  slipping  his  pack  from  his  shoulders,  sat 
down  on  a  stump  and  lit  his  pipe.  "I  was  in  at  McCar- 
thy's," he  explained,  "and  being  as  I  was  going  to  Depot 
Bay  and  there  was  a  letter  for  you,  I  said  I'd  bring  it 
over." 

"That  was  kind,"  Spencer  said.  "And  it's  a  couple  of 
miles  out  of  your  way." 

"I  came  from  Newport  this  morning,"  was  the  simple 
answer,  "and  a  couple  of  miles  more  or  less  is  nothing." 

Spencer  glanced  at  the  letter  and  then  thrust  it  into  his 
pocket.     "What's  the  news?"  he  inquired.  ^ 

"I  saw  White  in  Newport,"  the  scout  said  slowly. 
"He's  going  to  prove  up  in  April.    He  was  down  putting 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         141 

his  notice  in  the  paper.  And  there 's  several  others  going 
to  prove  up,  too.    There's  —  " 

"What's  White's  date?"  Spencer  asked  carelessly. 
"McCarthy  told  me  he  was  goin'  to  witness  for  him  at 
Portland." 

"April  the  second,"  the  scout  replied.  "Lim  was 
going  to  have  me  for  a  witness.  But  I  backed  out.  He 
ain't  entitled  to  that  place.  He  ain't  done  any  improv- 
ing and  he  ain't  lived  on  it  rightly.  But  of  course  he'll 
get  it.  He  stands  in  with  the  big  bugs,  and  there's  no- 
body going  to  contest  him." 

"Why  don't  somebody  contest  him?"  Spencer  de- 
manded. 

"It  would  cost  a  feller  two  hundred  dollars,"  the 
scout  explained.  "And  he'd  lose  his  money,  sure.  Lim's 
too  solid  with  the  grabbers  to  be  turned  down." 

"  But  if  he  has  n't  done  the  law,  I  'd  think  he  'd  lose  his 
claim,"  Spencer  insisted. 

The  scout  shook  his  head.  "I  guess  Lim '11  get  the 
claim  all  right.  I  was  told  he'd  been  offered  twenty 
thousand  for  it  already." 

"That's  against  the  law,  too,"  Spencer  interrupted 
quickly.  "  You  gotta  swear  you  have  n't  made  any 
bargain  at  all  before  you  can  prove  up." 

"Well,"  said  the  scout,  knocking  his  pipe  out,  "it  ain't 
any  funeral  of  yours  or  mine.     I  must  be  going.     It's 


142         THE  LAND   CL AIMERS 

fifteen  miles  to  Depot  Bay  and  after  noon."  He  swung 
his  pack  on  his  broad  shoulders,  nodded  farewell  and 
departed,  taking  huge  strides  with  ease  and  celerity, 
vanishing  up  the  trail  silently,  like  a  shadow.  When  he 
had  gone  Spencer  took  the  letter  he  had  just  received 
from  his  pocket  and  opened  it.  When  he  had  read  it, 
he  dropped  his  chin  on  his  chest. 

Ashland,  March  Tenth. 

Dear  Sim,  —  I  'm  down  and  out.  I  got  a  terrible  cold  a 
week  ago  and  now  IVe  had  to  break  my  contract  and  quit. 
I*m  done  for  good,  I  guess.  I  suppose  if  I  had  any  nerve 
left  I*d  just  say  good-by  to  everybody  and  exit  decently. 
But  I  want  to  see  my  boy  first.  You  don't  know  how  I  count 
on  him,  Sim.  Does  he  look  very  much  as  Harry  did  ?  Well, 
I'm  going  to  come  over  to  your  country,  Sim.  Just  as  soon 
as  I'm  well  enough.  The  doctor  says  I  can  go  in  a  week. 
But  I'll  wait  till  I  hear  from  you. 

I'm  not  going  to  let  Hal  know  who  I  am.  He  would  n't 
know  anyway.  Just  tell  him  I'm  a  friend  of  yours  and  I'll 
stay  on  your  ranch  a  few  days  and  see  my  boy  and  then  I  '11 
go  away  —  for  good.  Don't,  for  God's  sake,  tell  Hal.  Let 
me  come  down  and  see  him  before  I  die.  He  must  n't  be 
ashamed  of  his  mother. 

Flossetta  M. 

And  when  he  had  digested  this,  Spencer  raised  his 
head  with  a  new  light  in  his  eyes.  "Flossetta,"  he  said 
solemnly,  "I'll  do  it."  He  fixed  his  gaze  on  the  cold, 
green  heights,  and  his  thoughts  went  swiftly.     Finally, 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         143 

with  a  satisfied  nod,  be  put  the  letter  back  in  his  pocket 
and  went  back  to  the  cabin  to  find  Hal. 

"I  forgot  to  pay  ye  this  month's  salary,"  he  said 
abruptly. 

Hal  stared  at  the  hundred  dollar  bill.  "  I  have  n't  any 
change,"  he  said.     "Let  it  go." 

"We'll  make  it  two  months'  salary,  then,"  Spencer 
replied,  thrusting  the  money  into  his  hand.  "I  thought 
mebbe  you'd  be  wantin'  to  be  lookin'  round  for  a  claim 
for  yourself.  There  ought  to  be  some  good  ones  ye  might 
get  hold  of  for  a  couple  of  hundred." 

Marini  was  troubled.  "  I  'm  not  doing  any  good  here," 
he  said  uneasily.  "  I  was  thinking  that  if  you  did  n't 
need  me  after  this  month  I'd  go  to  San  Francisco  and 
see  mother.     I'm  made  for  the  city,  anyway." 

Spencer  shook  his  head.  "Don't  be  a  fool.  You 
stay  here  and  get  a  stake  first.  Your  mother  probably 
don't  want  you  to  come  down  there  and  starve  on  her 
hands." 

"She's  got  plenty  of  money." 

Spencer  rubbed  his  chin  thoughtfully.  "Well,  if  you 
want  to  live  off  your  mother,  it's  none  of  my  business,  I 
suppose." 

Hal  flushed  angrily.    "I  did  n't  mean  that,  at  all." 

"But  that's  what  you  would  do,"  Spencer  returned 
equably. 


144         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

"There's  no  chance  to  get  a  claim  here,"  Hal  went  on 
crossly.  "I've  inquired.  There  are  a  lot  of  good  claims 
that  might  be  contested,  but  that's  a  poor  business,  and 
it  would  get  me  disliked." 

There  was  a  steely  look  in  Spencer's  eyes  as  he  leaned 
over  with  an  affectation  of  indifference.  "I  suppose  one 
mustn't  get  disliked,"  he  admitted.  "But  if  these  peo- 
ple ain't  lived  the  law,  why,  I  guess  the  claim  you  want 
is  yours,  if  the  law  says  it  ain't  theirs." 

Hal  stared  at  the  ceiling.  "I  looked  into  it,"  he  said 
finally.     "And  I  decided  not  to  do  it." 

"But  if  you  found  a  claim  where  the  law  had  been  dis- 
obeyed, and  there  was  no  excuse  and  you  could  prove  it, 
would  you  take  the  chance?" 

"I've  got  no  money  to  do  it  with." 

"  Don't  ye  get  your  wages  regular?  How  much  does  it 
take?" 

"About  fifty  dollars  for  the  first  costs  and  then  witness 
fees  and  all  the  rest  —  they  say  about  three  or  four  hun- 
dred dollars,  usually,  if  they  fight  your  contest." 

Spencer  meditated  long.  Then  he  drew  up  a  chair  and 
looked  across  the  table  earnestly.  "  Look  here,  Hal.  I 
want  you  to  do  something.  I  want  you  to  contest  Lim 
White's  claim.  He  ain't  lived  the  law,  and  he  stole  it 
first  place  and  you  can  have  it.  I'll  pay  your  way  if  you 
need  the  money." 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         145 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  "It  would  be  no  use. 
White's  got  the  inside  track.  Everybody  says  so.  It 
would  be  just  wasting  money  and  time  and  trouble.  Be- 
sides, White  is  n't  a  safe  man  to  run  against." 

"Are  you  afraid?"  The  words  cut  like  a  whip-lash. 
They  were  followed  by  silence. 

Hal  stared  at  his  employer  with  angry  eyes.  He 
gained  nothing  by  it.  The  eyes  that  met  his  were  hot 
and  steady  and  scornful,  but  the  question  was  not  re- 
peated. He  wished  it  were;  it  would  give  him  a  chance 
to  resent  it.  Instead  the  silence  deepened.  Suddenly 
the  younger  man's  face  softened.  "No,"  he  said  defi- 
nitely and  gently. 

Spencer  nodded.  "Then  you'll  get  a  twenty  thousand 
dollar  claim.  All  you  have  to  do  is  contest  it.  You  find 
out  just  what  has  to  be  done.  You  trust  me;  you'll 
win.  And  then  you  can  go  to  your  mother  and  tell  her 
how  much  you're  worth  and  that  you  got  it  yourself 
and  not  by  cheatin',  but  by  buckin'  a  bad  man  and 
showing  folks  that  you  had  a  Uttle  nerve." 

"I'll  think  about  it,"  Hal  responded  slowly.  "But 
I'm  not  afraid.  Only,  I  don't  think  it  would  pay  me  to 
start  in  on  something  that  might  prove  worthless  after 
all.  Of  course.  White  cheated  you,  and  you  feel  that 
you'd  like  to  get  even  with  him.  And  so  long  as  I'm  in 
your  employ  and  take  your  money,  I'll  try  to  earn  it. 


146        THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

But  I'm  not  sure  that  I  care  to  contest  Mr.  White's 
claim,  even  if  you  do  infer  that  I'll  have  to  live  off  my 
mother."  He  flung  out  of  the  cabin  and  strode  across 
the  clearing. 

Spencer  followed  him  with  anxious  eyes.  He  shook 
his  head.  "He's  got  a  big  lot  of  his  father  in  him.  And 
his  father — "  He  spat  viciously  at  the  recollection  of 
that  spirited  man,  who  had  left  his  young  wife  as  soon  as 
he  found  that  she  did  not  meet  the  approval  of  careful 
friends.  "If  he  found  the  old  lady  was  doin'  a  dance 
turn  in  vaudeville,  he'd  throw  her  over,"  he  remarked 
to  himself.  "Like  father,  like  son."  But  he  was  not 
wholly  without  philosophy.  He  felt  sure  that  there  was 
a  manly  strain  in  the  youth  that  could  be  appealed  to 
and  that,  once  awakened,  would  guide  his  life.  Time 
would  tell. 

If  he  had  known  what  direction  Hal  had  taken  when 
he  struck  the  trail,  his  mind  might  have  been  easier. 
Hal  had  been  sorely  hurt  in  pride.  Spencer's  dry  in- 
sinuation that  he  intended  to  live  off  his  mother's  money 
made  him  rage.  It  did  not  make  it  any  better  that  there 
was  a  grain  of  truth  in  it.  He  felt  the  need  of  sympathy. 
He  would  see  Sally.  Of  course  he  would  say  nothing  to 
her  about  the  facts;  but  he  could  easily  stir  her  to  a 
feeling  that  he  had  been  misunderstood. 

He  found  her  alone  in  the  cabin.     She  received  him 


THE  LAND    CLAIMERS         147 

hospitably  and  asked  how  he  felt.  "  I  did  n't  expect  to 
see  you  again  today,"  she  said. 

He  suddenly  realized  that  he  had  left  her  but  a  few 
hours  before,  and  he  was  confused.  "Spencer  and  I  had 
a  row,"  he  said  abruptly. 

She  glanced  at  him  but  said  nothing.  "He  thinks  I'm 
no  good!"  he  raged.     "He  insulted  me  I" 

"My  sakes!  and  did  you  lick  him?" 

"  Lick  him?  "  he  repeated  dully.    "  Why?  " 

"You  said  he  insulted  you  and  you  had  a  row,"  she 
returned.  "I  should  think  one  or  the  other  would  have 
got  a  licking.     Did  he  lick  you?" 

The  humor  of  the  suggestion  brought  a  laugh.  "Not 
so  bad  as  all  that,"  he  said  more  amiably.  "But  you 
know  my  mother  lives  in  San  Francisco,  and  I  thought 
I'd  like  to  go  down  there.  There's  nothing  for  me  to  do 
here.  And  Spencer  said  I  wanted  to  go  down  and  live  off 
my  mother's  money." 

"What  were  you  going  to  live  off  of?" 

"That's  just  it,"  he  mourned.  "I  have  n't  any  money 
except  two  hundred  dollars  he's  paid  me." 

"Well?"  she  asked  gently. 

"  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  do  something,"  he  went  on,  with 
less  vehemence.  "Here  I've  been  educated  and  my 
mother  expects  great  things  of  me.  My  father  was  a 
very  prominent  and  brilliant  man.    Don't  you  see  I  ought 


148         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

to  be  in  the  world  doing  something?  What  is  there  to  do 
here?  Nothing  beyond  Hving  Hke  a  vegetable,  like  the 
rest." 

"What  does  Mr.  Spencer  say?"  she  inquired,  sitting 
down  and  resting  her  chin  on  her  hands. 

Her  tone  was  soothing.  "He  says  I  ought  to  stay  here 
and  make  a  stake,"  he  pursued.  "He  says  I  can't  do 
anything  in  California,  anyway,  unless  I  have  some  money 
to  begin  on.  He  wants  me  to  take  up  a  claim  and  settle 
on  it  and  live  here,  I  suppose,  till  I  can  sell  the  timber. 
I  might  be  an  old  man!" 

"I  think  you're  both  right,"  she  said  slowly.  "I  can 
see  that  you  ought  to  do  what  will  please  your  mother. 
It  would  be  a  shame  not  to  use  your  learning  and  your 
education.  And  I  think  he'  s  right  when  he  says  you 
ought  to  have  money  of  your  own.  Of  course  it  would  n't 
be  fair  to  take  your  mother's  money  any  longer." 

He  was  silent  a  while,  hands  deep  in  his  pockets.  He 
looked  up  suddenly.  "Do  you  never  think  of  anything 
but  money?  I  know  that's  the  chief  thing.  I've  lived 
in  the  Siletz  long  enough  to  know  that.  You  live  for 
money  and  slave  for  money  and  —  and  marry  for  money. 
All  for  money!" 

Sally's  pallid  face  flushed  slightly.  She  looked  at  him 
with  profound  amazement  in  her  gray  eyes,  an  expression 
of  unbelief,  of  sore  hurt,  of  anguish.    And  before  he  could 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         149 

interpret  this  strange  glance,  she  burst  into  tears  and 
fled  from  the  cabin.  He  tried  to  follow  her.  She  disap- 
peared into  the  timber,  and  he  was  left  staring  at  the 
empty  clearing. 

"By  Jove!  that  was  queer!"  he  muttered.  "I  wonder 
what's  the  matter  with  her?"  She  did  not  return  to  tell 
him,  and  he  went  home. 

He  passed  within  a  few  yards  of  where  Sally,  dry-eyed, 
faced  her  future  in  despair  and  agony,  quite  alone  in  the 
sunless  forest,  under  the  cold  trees,  crouching  on  the  in- 
hospitable earth  like  a  hunted  wild  thing. 


CHAPTER  XI 

WHEN  he  reached  home  at  dusk,  Hal  found  Spen- 
cer squared  over  the  table  writing  a  letter.  He 
looked  up  and  nodded  cheerfully. 

"I'm  scrawlin'  a  letter  to  your  mother,"  he  said.  "I 
ain't  writ  to  her  since  you  come,  and  I  thought  I'd 
send  my  respects  to  her."  He  leaned  back,  pen  between 
his  teeth,  to  stare  at  the  young  man.  "What  do  you 
think  of  her  comin'  here  and  seein'  you? "  he  went  on. 
"Then  you  and  her  could  plan  things  out." 

"This  is  a  pretty  tough  country  to  ask  her  to  come  to," 
was  the  reply.  Spencer  nodded.  "I'm  tellin'  her  that. 
'Nd  that  she  won't  find  any  caffys  handy  for  breakfast 
nor  a  cab  nor  a  theater.  But  your  mother  would  come 
just  the  same,  I  bet.    I  believe  it  would  do  her  good." 

Hal  replied  evasively.  He  determined  to  write  her  a 
letter  and  tell  her  under  no  circumstances  to  come;  he 
would  enlarge  on  the  frightful  difficulties  of  the  trip  and 
the  primitiveness  of  the  accommodations. 

Spencer  said  no  more  about  it,  but  painfully  scratched 
away  till  it  was  necessary  to  light  the  lamp.  Hal  got  their 
meagre  supper,  and  when  it  was  finished  washed  the  few 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         151 

dishes,  while  his  employer  continued  his  letter.  When  Hal 
finally  went  to  bed,  Spencer  was  still  busy,  with  knotted 
brows  and  pursed  lips.    At  midnight  he  had  finished. 

SiLETZ,  24  March,  1907 

Dear  miss  Flossetta,  —  Your  letter  to  hand  and  con- 
tents noted.  Im  sorry  youre  sick,  but  I  hope  your  O.  K  by 
this  time.  Cheer  up.  Hal  is  workin  away  like  a  good  feller, 
doin  all  sorts  of  nifty  jobs  which  his  edducation  helps  him  in 
the  same  to  do  very  well  and  O  K  in  every  particler.  He  is 
well.  He  goes  fishin  a  good  deal.  The  weather  has  been 
bum,  but  you  get  used  to  it. 

About  your  coming  here  and  not  letting  Hal  know  who 
you  are.  If  you  say  so,  it  goes.  Come  as  soon  as  you  like 
and  stay  as  long  as  you  feel  well.  We  live  pretty  rough. 
You  might  say  you  was  my  sister.  But  dont  get  blue  an 
talk  foolish.  Hal  dont  need  your  money  but  he  will  need 
you.  Ill  meet  you  at  the  Agency  and  bring  you  over  here. 
Then  youll  see  your  son  workin  away  and  makin  money. 

respectfuly  yrs 

S.  Spencer 

The  next  morning  Spencer  took  the  letter  to  the  Agency 
himself,  making  the  round  trip  between  dawn  and  dark. 
On  his  return  he  seemed  very  thoughtful,  and  Hal,  un- 
easily conscious  that  he  was  to  blame  for  his  employer's 
dissatisfaction,  broached  the  subject  of  contesting  Lim 
White's  claim. 

"I've  sort  of  looked  around,"  he  said.  "White  has  n't 
even  pretended  to  obey  the  law.    He  has  n't  made  any 


152         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

improvements,  nor  fixed  up  his  house  nor  stayed  there 
except  when  he  had  to.  His  witnesses  are  McCarthy  and 
Wild  Bill.  Wild  Bill  may  be  honest  about  it,  but  Mc- 
Carthy seems  to  be  under  White's  thumb." 

"How  long  will  it  take  to  start  the  contest?" 

"  About  a  week,  but  after  it 's  started  White  will  simply 
rely  on  the  men  backing  him  to  see  that  he  does  n't  lose. 
He'll  have  witnesses  in  plenty.  And  it's  doubtful  if  any- 
body around  here  would  be  willing  to  swear  that  he  had  n't 
done  the  right  thing,  because  they're  afraid  he'd  win 
anyhow,  and  then  he'd  make  it  hard  for  them." 

"White's  got  to  fight  his  own  battle,  hasn't  he?" 
Spencer  demanded  with  interest. 

"Sure.  He's  got  to  tell  all  he  knows.  He's  his  own 
chief  witness.  But  don't  you  worry;  Lim  White,  from 
what  I  can  find  out  about  him,  is  n't  going  to  show  the 
white  feather  nor  quit  on  a  bluff." 

"Look  here,"  Spencer  said  quietly.  "You  go  ahead 
and  file  your  contest  and  make  a  good  fight.  I  '11  guarantee 
you'll  win." 

Hal  stared,  as  if  he  thought  Spencer  was  demented. 
"How  do  you  know?" 

"Don't  ask  me  too  many  questions,"  was  the  brief 
reply.  "You  just  trust  Sim  Spencer.  I  got  my  leg  pulled 
twicet.  And  I'll  have  Lim  White  glad  to  have  you  have 
that  claim  that  he  stole." 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         153 

"You  seem  pretty  certain  of  your  ground,"  Hal  said 
grudgingly.     "But  —  " 

"There  ain't  no  'buts/"  was  the  curt  response.  "If 
there  had  been  a  man  round  loose  before  this,  White 
would  n't  have  been  so  free  with  his  thievin'  and  his 
lyin'." 

Before  they  went  to  bed  it  was  agreed  that  the  next 
day  Hal  should  go  to  Toledo  and  there  consult  a  lawyer 
and  immediately  file  a  contest  for  the  claim  that  Lim 
White  was  trying  to  make  his  own.  In  the  morning 
Spencer  saw  the  young  man  off,  with  one  or  two  words  of 
warning  about  the  value  of  silence.  When  Hal  had 
vanished  into  the  feeble  rain,  Spencer  sat  down  to  cogitate 
and  make  his  final  arrangements  for  the  reception  of 
Flossetta  Marini. 

What  had  appeared  easy  at  first  assumed  a  more  puz- 
zling aspect,  the  longer  he  considered  it.  His  impulse  had 
been,  when  he  agreed  to  her  suggestion,  to  have  her  come 
and  stay  with  himself  and  her  son.  She  would  be  his 
sister,  ostensibly.  But  then  (he  remembered  well)  Flos- 
setta had  been  always  of  delicate  tastes,  in  love  with  the 
soft  things  of  life,  unequal  to  the  arduous.  Neither  he 
nor  Hal  could  get  one  meal  that  would  not  disgust  her. 
The  primitive  accommodations  of  their  cabin  would 
appal  her.  It  was  distinctly  impossible.  But  what  was 
to  be  done?    Spencer  bent  his  brows  over  this  for  hours. 


154         THELANDCLAIMERS 

At  noon  he  ate  his  lunch,  stared  long  at  the  dingy 
walls  and  ended  by  saying  to  himself,  "I'll  go  and  see 
Sally." 

He  found  her  alone,  cooking  a  batch  of  light  bread. 
She  seemed  glad  to  see  him,  and  yet  her  attitude  was 
more  reserved,  her  humor  more  silent  than  he  had  ever 
observed  before.  As  he  sat  uneasily  on  a  chair  and  watched 
her  deft  movements  about  the  rude  table  and  little  stove, 
he  debated  how  to  open  the  problem  to  her.  He  ended 
by  saying,  "I'm  in  a  mess,  Sally.    I  need  your  help." 

She  nodded  gravely.    "What's  the  matter?" 

"I  can't  cook,"  he  said.  "And  just  now  I'd  rather  be 
a  good  cook  than  President  of  the  United  States." 

She  looked  at  him  with  warm  eyes.  "You  just  pack 
your  stuff  over  here.  I'll  cook  for  you.  You'd  be 
welcome." 

"No,  I  wouldn't,"  he  answered,  with  a  faint  smile. 
"Your  father  would  throw  me  out.  But  it  ain't  me  that's 
sufferin'.    It's  somebody  else." 

Sally  swung  round  sharply.  "I  suppose  that  young 
man  is  the  one,"  she  said  hotly.  "  I  '11  do  anything  for  you, 
Mr.  Spencer.  But  I  draw  the  Hne  at  Mr.  Marini.  If  he 
can't  cook,  let  him  eat  canned  stuff  or  starve!" 

"Now  what  have  you  got  against  Hal?"  Spencer  de- 
manded anxiously.  "Has  he  been  botherin'  ye?  I'll  sit 
on  him  —  hard." 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         155 

"No,"  she  said  hastily,  aware  how  futile  an  attempted 
explanation  would  be.  "Only,  I  don't  like  him.  What 
business  has  he  looking  down  on  us  here  in  the  timber?  " 

"None  at  all,"  was  the  prompt  response.  "But  Hal 
is  a  good  boy.  It  was  n't  him  I  was  speakin'  of.  It  was 
his  mother.    She's  comin'  to  see  him." 

Sally  was  silent,  and  Spencer,  having  waited  vainly  for 
a  response,  went  on  desperately:  "She's  in  hard  luck  and 
don't  want  Hal  to  know  it,  because  she  —  she  thinks  he 
would  n't  like  it.  But  she  wants  to  see  him  —  has  n't 
seen  him  since  he  was  a  little  shaver  —  and  she 's  comin' 
here,  sayin'  as  how  she's  my  sister  —  just  to  see  him  and 
see  how's  he's  doin'.    But  I  can't  cook!" 

Sally  put  her  baking  aside  and  came  over  and  sat  down. 
"I  don't  believe  I  see  through  it  yet,"  she  said.  "Say  it 
over  again.  I  thought  his  mother  was  worth  all  kinds  of 
money  and  rode  in  a  carriage  and  had  a  piano." 

He  explained  awkwardly  while  she  Hstened.  At  the 
end  of  his  recital  she  said  quietly:  "And  the  old  lady 
wants  to  see  her  son,  and  he'd  be  ashamed  of  her  if  he 
knew  it  was  his  mother,  so  she's  coming  as  your  sister? 
And  you  can't  cook?  " 

"That's  about  the  facts,"  Spencer  returned. 

"Let  her  come  here,"  Sally  said  curtly.  "I've  got 
less  use  than  ever  for  that  Hal.  But  I'll  cook  for  his 
mother." 


156         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

"You're  'way  off  about  Hal.  He  ain't  bad.  Only  his 
mother  put  him  up  to  thinkin'  that  she  was  famous  and 
that  he  was  the  whole  show  with  her.  And  she  can't 
stand  to  have  him  despise  her." 

Sally  got  up  and  went  back  to  her  baking.  "I'll  look 
after  her,"  she  said.  "  Dad  is  going  over  to  White's  place 
to  help  him  with  his  improvements.  He'll  be  over  there 
most  of  the  time  till  White  proves  up  and  then  he'll  go 
to  Portland  to  witness  for  him." 

"  I  '11  pay  the  bill,"  Spencer  added.  Then,  more  thought- 
fully, "I  hope  it  will  all  come  right  between  Hal  and  his 
mother.    You  see,  his  mother  had  hard  luck." 

She  looked  over  at  him.  "  She  should  n't  have  lied  to 
him.    What's  the  use?" 

This  troubled  Spencer  greatly.  He  launched  out  into 
an  elaborate  apology  for  Flossetta.  Sally  listened  for  a 
while  but  finally  stopped  him,  smiling  brilliantly. 

"What's  the  use  of  talking?"  she  demanded.  "My 
sakes!   anybody  could  tell  you  were  in  love  with  her." 

Spencer  blushed  furiously.  His  dark  face  set  in  dogged 
lines.  "I  was,"  he  admitted.  "And  she's  a  fine  woman. 
And  I'm  goin'  to  help  her  all  I  can." 

"Count  me  in,"  was  the  curt  response.  They  dropped 
the  subject. 

After  supper  he  went  back  to  his  own  dreary  cabin 
and  sat  by  the  little  stove,  coughing  from  excitement. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         157 

He  reread  Flossetta's  letter,  like  a  boy  in  dim  love.  Mem- 
ory whirled  him  out  of  the  dark  forest  into  the  city  of  his 
tm*bulent  and  unvanquished  youth.  He  trod  Market 
Street  again,  sought  Telegraph  Hill  in  the  white  morning 
to  gaze  out  on  the  traflBc-crowded  bay.  The  fresh  sea  air 
stung  his  nostrils;  the  indefinable,  amazing,  unbelievable 
exhilaration  of  San  Francisco  carried  him  away  once  more 
to  forgetfulness  of  sordidness,  squalor  and  misery.  What 
a  youth  his  had  been!  There  was  n't  a  street  where  he 
had  n't  fought  for  his  life,  not  a  corner  that  he  had  not 
turned  breathlessly  at  some  time.  Though  his  business 
had  been  one  hated  and  feared,  liable  to  unpleasant  pub- 
licity, it  had  given  him  an  outlet  for  his  brimming  vitality. 
The  men  he  had  licked !  The  snarling  crews  he  had  thrust 
aboard  ships  with  his  scarred  hands!  The  nights  he  had 
spent  in  an  open  boat  in  the  darkness,  fighting  the  tide 
rips,  cursing  carelessly  because  he  had  but  a  pinched  hold 
on  life,  and  an  hour  might  see  his  corpse  floating  in  the 
fairway!  His  breath  came  fast  as  he  remembered  it  all. 
"I  was  a  husky  lad!"  he  thought  warmly.  "I  c'd  take 
care  of  m'self.    Sure  I  could!" 

In  the  midst  of  this  turmoil  and  activity,  this  constant 
battle  and  unceasing  snatching  at  hard-won  wages,  ap- 
peared the  delicate  and  alluring  image  of  Flossetta.  She 
was  like,  a  quiet  and  lovely  space  in  the  heart  of  a  smoky, 
noisy  city.    With  her  childish  grace  and  pretty  wilfulness 


158         THELANDCLAIMERS 

she  had  sung  herself  into  his  heart.  How  pure  she  was! 
and  how  unstained !  He  had  given  her  prompt  allegiance, 
with  the  frankness  of  his  temperament.  She  had  smiled, 
accepted  his  awkward  homage,  and  never  scorned  him 
nor  hurt  him,  however  fine  the  company  of  her  adorers. 
Gradually  (he  remembered  it  with  set  lips)  he  had  re- 
solved to  marry  her.  He  loved  her.  He  could  lick  any 
man  of  those  who  hung  round  her.  With  his  two  fists 
and  his  good  arms  he  had  determined  to  take  her  for 
himself  .  .  . 

He  poked  the  coals  in  the  stove  and  lit  a  cigarette. 

.  .  .  Two  fists,  a  faithful  heart  and  his  strong  determi- 
nation had  suddenly  been  made  useless.  Not  by  any  man, 
but  by  Flossetta  herself.  She  had  seemed  incapable  of 
understanding  that  he  loved  her  and  would  marry  her. 
She  had  Hstened  with  faintly  puckered  brows  when  he 
explained  himself;  she  had  cried  a  little  when  he  had 
ended.  He  heard  her  yet:  "Dear  old  Sim!  Why,  I 
would  n't  have  the  faintest  idea  of  what  to  do  if  I  married 
you.  Would  I  have  to  wear  an  apron  and  cook?  I  canH 
cook.    And  I  never,  never  want  to  learn!" 

She  had  married  Harry  Marini.  He  had  money,  and, 
what  Sim  never  would  have,  a  genial  polish  of  manner 
that  forbade  Flossetta  even  to  resent  his  leaving  her.  She 
had  almost  been  convinced  that  she  had  dismissed  him, 
and  he  had  taken  it  nicely,  like  the  real  gentleman  he  was. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         159 

Spencer  flung  his  cigarette  away  and  dropped  his  head 
between  his  hands.  It  had  all  happened  twenty-odd 
years  ago. 

The  grim  Siletz  forest  closed  in  on  him  again.  San 
Francisco  and  his  old  life  vanished.  The  walls  of  the 
solitary  shanty  under  the  towering  firs  shut  out  everything 
but  the  patter  of  the  rain  on  the  shakes  and  the  occasional 
breathing  of  the  cold  and  unvitalized  timber.  It  was 
twenty  miles  to  the  nearest  town,  through  the  forest.  It 
was  ten  to  the  coast.  And  in  all  the  extent  of  the  huge, 
dark,  pathless  reservation  he  knew  of  but  half  a  dozen 
neighbors.  His  mind  went  on,  picking  up  all  the  physical 
details  of  his  isolation,  placing  them  before  him  in  com- 
fortless figures.  And  all  that  was  left,  between  him  and 
starvation,  was  a  single  hundred-dollar  bill.  When  that 
was  gone,  the  end  of  this  final  game  with  fortune  would 
have  come. 

With  painstaking  care  he  ran  over  what  he  had  to  do. 
**  I  must  get  Hal  that  claim  of  Lim  White's,  and  fix  it  so 
Flossetta  '11  be  comfortable,  and  help  Sally  to  be  happier. 
'Nd  do  it  all  on  a  hundred  bucks."    He  sighed  deeply. 

Then,  as  an  earnest  of  his  intention  not  to  "quit,"  he 
went  to  the  pantry  and  forced  down  his  throat  a  couple 
of  nauseous  biscuits  and  a  glass  of  tinned  milk.  "I 
gotta  get  that  weight,"  he  told  himself. 


CHAPTER  XII 

After  an  absence  of  five  days,  Hal  returned  from 
-^  -^  Portland  and  announced  to  Spencer  that  he  had 
filed  a  contest  in  the  Land  Office  for  Lim  White's  daim. 
The  officials  had  received  his  filing  with  reluctance,  he 
stated;  he  had  been  told  that  his  effort  to  get  the  claim 
was  preposterous,  and  that  no  date  could  be  set  for  the 
hearing.  His  attorney  had  informed  him  that  the  strength 
of  his  allegations  was  such  that  it  was  likely  that  White 
would  be  compelled  to  live  for  the  full  three  years  on  his 
claim,  instead  of  being  allowed  to  commute  and  pay 
the  Government  the  required  dollar  and  a  quarter  an 
acre.  Farther  than  this,  the  lawyer  would  give  him  no 
encouragement. 

"Everybody  told  me  that  White  would  rather  live 
another  year  or  so  on  the  place  than  lose  twenty  thousand 
dollars,"  Hal  told  Spencer. 

"Who  is  everybody?"  Sim  demanded  curtly. 

"The  men  in  the  Land  Office  —  the  lawyer  —  a  fellow 
I  met  in  the  Land  Office,"  he  said  vaguely.  "Then  I  got 
to  talking  with  a  chap  in  the  hotel.  He  told  me  the  same 
thing." 


THE  LAND  CL AIMERS         161 

"Well?"    Spencer's  tone  was  sharp. 

Hal  smiled  slightly.  "It's  up  to  you,"  he  responded. 
"You  told  me  to  go  ahead.    You  said  it  was  all  right." 

Spencer  sighed.  "Look  here,  Hal,"  he  said,  "you  know 
yourself  that  that  claim's  worth  twenty  thousand  dollars. 
Now  the  law's  plain  enough  for  a  Georgia  nigger  to  read. 
Ain't  you  man  enough  to  get  that  money?  Say,  speak 
up!" 

The  young  man  pondered  a  while.  "  I  'd  like  the  money, 
all  right,"  he  answered  presently.  "But  what's  the  use 
of  fighting  everybody  in  the  Siletz?  Do  you  know  the 
only  witnesses  I  could  get  to  sign  up  were  the  scout  and 
another  fellow  that  I  don't  know?  Everybody  here  is  on 
White's  side.    It'll  cost  money,  too." 

"How  much?"  came  the  demand. 

"Maybe  three  or  four  hundred  dollars.  If  White 
did  n't  fight  it,  it  would  cost  only  thirty  dollars  more 
than  I  've  spent  so  far,  but  of  course  he'll  fight  it." 

"You  mean  if  White  does  n't  turn  up  at  the  trial?" 

"Yes.  The  lawyer  said  he  didn't  see  anything  for 
us  to  do  but  go  to  White  and  buy  his  relinquishment. 
He  said  he  might  sell,  if  he  really  was  up  against  the 
law." 

Spencer  coughed.  "Don't  you  ever  offer  White  a  soli- 
tary penny!"  he  stormed,  choking.  "I'm  puttin'  this 
deal  through.    'Nd  Mr.  White,  he  goes  busted.    See?" 


162         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

"I  don't  see/'  Hal  replied  truthfully.  "But  Tm  leav- 
ing it  to  you." 

The  next  few  days  were  uneasy  ones  for  Spencer.  The 
news  that  Marini  had  contested  Lim  White  spread  quickly. 
Men  went  out  of  their  way  to  call  at  the  Spencer  cabin  and 
inquire  whether  it  was  true.  Each  left  with  words  of  com- 
miseration. "Nobody  ever  ran  against  Lim  but  what 
Lim  knocked  him  sky-high,"  was  the  universal  verdict. 
On  Spencer  this  had  no  effect.  He  airily  rejected  sym- 
pathy and  assured  the  visitor  that  while  Hal  was  "  hangin* 
from  his  own  hook,"  he,  Spencer,  was  willing  to  bet  on  the 
result. 

In  the  midst  of  this,  while  Hal  was  sulking  and  mutter- 
ing that  he  had  been  sent  on  a  wild-goose  chase,  Spencer 
announced  the  coming  of  his  sister.  "She'll  be  here  next 
week,"  he  said,  "I'm  goin'  to  Toledo  to  meet  her  and 
bring  her  in." 

"  I  never  heard  you  had  a  sister,"  Hal  asserted. 

"I  have,  sure  I  have.    She's  a  nice  lady,  too." 

"I  suppose  I'll  have  to  go  and  camp,  then.  If  a  lady's 
coming  it's  up  to  me  to  get  out." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  Spencer  assured  him.  "She's  goin' 
to  stop  with  Sally.  I've  made  all  the  arrangements. 
Stay  where  you  are.    You'll  find  her  a  fine  lady,  too." 

When  Spencer  left  for  Toledo,  by  way  of  the  Agency, 
after  severe  preparations  in  the  way  of  a  brilliant  shirt 


THE  LAND    CL AIMERS        163 

and  high  collar,  Hal  strolled  over  to  the  McCarthy 
cabin.  He  found  Sally  busy  sweeping.  "Tm  making 
everything  ready  for  Mr.  Spencer's  sister,"  she  announced, 
giving  him  a  chair.  "I  expect  she'll  be  in  by  day  after 
to-morrow.** 

"I  suppose  so,*'  he  responded  sulkily.  "What  in  the 
world  does  he  want  to  bring  a  woman  into  this  God- 
forsaken place  for?    It  is  n't  fit  for  a  man,  let  alone  a 


woman." 


"  I  see  you  're  fixing  to  stay,"  she  said,  smiling.  "  You  *ve 
gone  and  contested  Lim  White." 

"And  made  a  fool  of  myself,"  he  replied  wrathfuUy. 
"Spencer  told  me  it  would  be  easy.  But  everybody  in 
the  Siletz  is  on  White's  side.  It'll  cost  me  money  and 
nothing  gained." 

She  shook  her  head.  "I  was  glad  when  you  did  it," 
she  told  him.  "Lim  has  just  about  run  this  country  for 
the  last  five  years.  And  nobody  had  the  nerve  to  tell  him 
to  quit.  But  when  I  heard  you'd  quietly  gone  and  filed 
against  him,  I  knew  a  real  man  had  got  tired  of  bowing 
down  to  him.    I  do  hope  you'll  win.** 

As  they  discussed  the  matter,  Hal  felt  that,  after  all, 
he  had  done  a  plucky  thing.  Single-handed,  he  had  gone 
to  battle  with  the  power  of  the  country.  And  Sally*s 
frank  praise  and  sympathy  warmed  him  and  made  him 
sure  that  he  would  succeed. 


164         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

"The  law's  plain  enough,"  he  remarked.  "But  of 
course  he '11  fight.  But  if  one  sticks  to  it,  he'll  lose.  He's 
a  bluffer." 

At  this  moment  McCarthy  came  in,  glowering  and 
ugly.  "I  hear  you've  caught  on  pretty  quick,"  he  said 
harshly  to  the  young  man.  "  Usually  the  tenderfeet  wait 
till  they  know  something  about  this  country  before  they 
butt  in  too  hard." 

Hal  returned  scowl  for  scowl,  confident  in  himself  for 
the  moment.  "I  think  Mr.  White  will  find  out  that  I'm 
butting  in  to  some  purpose,"  he  boasted.  "One  man 
does  n't  run  this  reservation,  the  Government  and  all  the 
rest  of  the  world,  does  he?  " 

McCarthy  merely  muttered  in  his  beard  and  proceeded 
to  gather  together  what  he  needed  for  the  trip  to  Otter 
Rock.  Ignoring  Marini,  he  addressed  his  daughter. 
"I'm  going  over  to  White's.  I'll  be  there  till  he  goes  to 
Portland  to  prove  up.  You  better  come  over  to-morrow 
and  cook  for  us.    We'll  be  right  busy." 

Sally  glanced  at  her  father  and  answered:  "Expect  me 
when  I  come." 

"If  ye  don't  come  to-morrow,  Lim  or  I  will  be  back 
after  ye,"  he  aflBrmed  sourly.  Swinging  his  hastily  made 
pack  on  his  shoulders,  he  departed. 

Hal  stayed  on,  warming  himself  in  Sally's  praise. 
Time  and  time  again  she  came  back  to  the  subject  of  his 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         165 

contest  against  Lim  White,  subtly  suggesting  to  him  that 
he  had  done  it  more  for  the  sake  of  showing  his  metal 
than  for  the  money  that  was  in  it.  "Even  if  you  lose," 
she  said,  "you'll  make  Lim  know  enough  to  draw  in  his 
horns.    I  wish  I  was  a  man!" 

"What  would  you  do?"  he  demanded. 

She  looked  at  him  with  frank  pleasure  in  his  interest. 

"Lots  of  things.  First,  Td  let  everybody  know  that  I 
was  tending  to  my  own  business.  Then  I'd  go  on  my 
own  way,  without  paying  attention  to  anybody.  I'd 
rather  be  poor  as  a  wood-rat  than  swallow  what  some 
men  do."  Her  eyes  clouded  and  she  bent  over  her  work. 
"  I  s'pose  that  all  sounds  foolish,"  she  murmured. 

Her  attitude  had  thawed  Hal  until  he  realized  that, 
after  all,  life  was  ready  to  his  hand.  He  did  not  have  to 
go  to  San  Francisco  to  find  its  threshold.  He  had  been 
less  than  two  months  in  the  Siletz,  and  here  he  was  face 
to  face  with  an  enemy,  and  no  mean  antagonist  at  that. 
He  was  not  aware  of  it;  but  the  present  meant  much 
to  him.  In  years  to  come  he  was  to  look  back  on  this 
moment  as  the  beginning  of  his  manhood.  True,  he 
had  already  taken  the  first  steps  in  this  struggle.  But 
he  had  taken  them  unwillingly,  driven  by  shame  before 
Spencer.  Now  he  was  learning  that  that  hesitating 
obedience  bore  within  it  the  seed  of  his  own  independ- 
ence, and  that  he  had  suddenly  had  thrust  on  him  the 


166         THE    LANDCLAIMERS 

complete  burden  of  responsibility.  He  enjoyed  it.  And 
when  he  left  at  dusk  he  took  with  him  a  wholly  new 
conception  of  Sally.  "By  Jove!"  he  said  to  himself. 
"She's  a  fine  girl!    And  beautiful,  too!" 

The  next  morning  he  returned,  ostensibly  to  find  out 
whether  there  was  any  word  of  Spencer  and  his  sister; 
his  real  object  was  to  discover  whether  Sally  intended 
to  go  to  Otter  Rock  to  cook  for  her  father  and  Lim  White. 
His  curiosity  was  not  satisfied,  for  Sally  was  gone  and 
the  cabin  was  empty.  The  fact  that  a  pan  of  bread  was 
rising  on  the  shelf  behind  the  stove  annoimced  that  she 
had  not  gone  far.  But  a  wait  of  an  hour  brought  no 
Sally,  and  Hal,  feeling  rather  dull,  decided  to  go  fishing. 
He  had  brought  a  line  and  some  hooks  along  with  him, 
and  as  he  had  no  rod  or  creel  he  thought  he  would  try 
more  primitive  ways  of  catching  trout.  So  he  dug  a  few 
worms  from  under  the  bark  of  a  fallen  spruce,  as  he  had 
seen  the  scout  do,  and  started  for  Little  Creek. 

He  met  no  one  on  the  trail.  Two  hours'  fishing  sufficed 
to  fill  the  pockets  of  his  jacket  and  to  weary  him.  He 
threw  his  rude  pole  away,  wound  his  line  up  and  started 
home  shortly  after  noon.  His  thoughts  had  been  mingled, 
pleasant  and  unpleasant,  while  he  fished,  and  now  they 
seemed  determined  to  settle  into  a  dull  gloom  that  made 
him  restless.  He  felt  that  in  taking  up  the  contest  against 
White  he  had  probably  been  deceived.    Public  opinion 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         167 

was  contrary  to  him.  Likely  he  had  been  made  the  in- 
strument of  Spencer's  desire  for  revenge. 

Consequently  he  was  much  embarrassed  to  meet  White 
himself  on  the  trail.  They  had  never  spoken  till  now, 
but  the  rude  courtesy  of  the  timber  demanded  that  he 
respond  to  White's  curt  greeting.  Somehow  they  found 
themselves  facing  each  other,  each  waiting  for  the  other 
to  speak.  White,  shrewdly  observant  of  the  young  man's 
confusion,  took  advantage  of  it.  "I  wondered  when  I'd 
see  you,"  he  said  smoothly.  "I  understand  you  think 
I'm  not  entitled  to  my  claim." 

Hal  glanced  at  the  rather  nonchalant  figure  of  the  man 
he  was  opposing  and  felt  the  scrutiny  of  his  keen  eyes. 
He  repUed  stanmaeringly:  "Yes,  I  thought  I  might  as 
well  have  it  as  somebody  else." 

White  nodded.  "Of  course.  I  don't  bear  any  ill- 
will.  I'm  too  much  of  a  business  man,  myself,  to  get 
mad  at  what  another  man  thinks  is  business.  Only, 
you're  off  on  the  wrong  foot.  I'm  quite  entitled  to 
the  claim." 

"But  you  haven't  obeyed  the  law,"  Hal  protested. 
"You've  not  made  any  improvements  and  you've  been 
off  your  place  half  the  time." 

"Naturally  some  of  my  enemies  would  swear  to  that," 
White  returned  equably.  "But  you've  not  been  here 
long  enough  to  find  out  just  how  people  put  things  up. 


168         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

Mr.  Marini.  IVe  got  enemies,  same  as  any  other  man. 
And  they  thought  you'd  be  a  good  man  to  set  on  me. 
But  they're  all  wrong." 

"How?"  demanded  Hal. 

''Now,  there's  a  fair  question,"  was  the  answer.  "I'll 
tell  you.  This  matter  of  proving  up  on  your  claim  is  not 
only  a  legal  matter  but  it 's  a  neighborly  one,  too.  I  never 
bear  down  too  hard  on  a  man  who's  taken  up  a  place  in 
the  Siletz.  The  best  you  can  make  of  it  is  a  pretty  hard 
proposition.  I  never  make  any  trouble  for  anybody.  If 
a  man  does  as  well  as  he  can,  I  say,  let  him  have  the  land. 
You  look  at  it  differently.  But  the  Government  looks  at 
it  my  way,  you'll  find.  What  we  need  in  here  is  settlers, 
and  you  can't  get  settlers  if  you're  too  strict." 

"But  the  only  thing  worth  while  is  the  timber,"  in- 
sisted Hal. 

"Sure,  that's  the  way  with  some  people.  But  I'm 
taking  up  my  claim  to  live  on  it.  Why  should  I  want  to 
sell  it  and  have  to  go  somewhere  else  to  live?" 

White  glanced  under  his  brows  to  see  what  effect  this 
argument  had.  He  appeared  satisfied.  "Of  course,  I 
know  the  custom,"  he  continued  smoothly.  "You  make 
a  mistake  and  think  you're  entitled  to  my  claim.  It 
often  happens.  Now  I  convince  you  that  you're  wrong 
and  I  say:  'You've  spent  some  money,  thinking  you 
were  entitled  to  this  homestead.     I've  shown  you  that 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         169 

you  *re  not.  But  I  'm  a  fair  man.  You  relinquish  to  me 
and  ril  pay  you  — '"  he  stopped  and  glanced  pleasantly 
over  Hal's  head  —  "how  much  shall  I  pay  you  for  your 
relinquishment?  " 

Hal  stared  at  him,  the  blood  slowly  pouring  into  his 
brain.  The  smooth,  middle-aged  man  before  him  was 
trying  to  buy  him  off.  True,  it  was  his  own  venture  and 
the  struggle  was  between  the  two  alone.  He  had  the 
right  to  make  a  compromise.  Yet  —  Spencer's  eager 
face  appeared  in  the  background,  the  face  of  his  em- 
ployer and  his  friend.  He  found  the  words  slowly,  staring 
at  his  interrogator  and  tempter.  "  I  '11  take  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars  for  my  relinquishment  to  the  claim,"  he 
responded. 

White's  eyes  blazed  up,  and  his  face  set  harshly.  "All 
right,"  he  said  threateningly.  "I  made  you  a  friendly 
offer.  Now  I'll  see  you  damned  before  I  say  anything 
more  to  you."  He  passed  on  quickly.  Hal  smiled  to 
himself;  he  was  surer  now  of  his  ground.  White  was 
afraid. 

He  had  gone  a  few  hundred  yards  further  when,  stand- 
ing on  a  spur  of  the  ridge  that  the  trail  followed,  he 
caught  a  glimpse  of  a  cabin  he  had  never  seen  before.  It 
lay  far  down  in  the  canyon,  its  little  clearing  showing  like 
a  spot  of  brown  amidst  the  universal  green.  Smoke 
eddied  up  from  the  pipe  on  the  roof.    A  woman  stood  in 


170         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

the  doorway.  Something  was  strangely  familiar  about 
her  attitude.  He  strained  his  eyes  to  see  who  it  could 
be.  He  had  heard  of  no  one  in  this  part  of  the  town- 
ship. He  had  passed  no  trail  leading  down  to  this  place. 
And  yet  the  scene  was  there,  distinct,  unmistakable. 
The  woman  moved,  stretching  a  bare  arm  up  to  rest  one 
hand  on  the  door  jamb.  It  was  incredible.  It  was  Sally 
McCarthy. 

He  changed  his  foothold  and  the  scene  vanished,  the 
vista  closed.  He  tried  vainly  to  bring  it  back  again  into 
view,  but  it  eluded  him.  For  a  moment  he  was  bewil- 
dered; it  must  have  been  an  hallucination,  a  mirage. 
He  continued  on  towards  the  McCarthy  place.  An  hour 
later,  as  he  stepped  into  the  clearing,  he  saw  Sally  com- 
ing out,  bare-armed,  short  ax  in  hand.  She  returned 
his  hail  with  a  gesture.  He  approached,  wondering. 
But  she  gave  no  sign  of  having  any  intention  of  explain- 
ing her  absence,  and  he  refrained  from  questions  till  she 
had  finished  chopping  away  a  root  before  the  door.  Then 
he  said,  "I  thought  I  saw  you  about  an  hour  ago.  I 
think  I  must  have  been  dreaming.'* 

She  turned  startled  eyes  on  him.     "Where?" 

"Standing  in  the  doorway  of  a  cabin  about  three  miles 
from  here.  I  did  n't  know  anybody  lived  up  towards  the 
creek.    It  was  a  cabin  down  in  a  canyon." 

"Nobody  lives  anywhere  round  here,"  she  answered 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         171 

slowly.  "No  woman,  certainly.  The  school  teacher  is 
the  only  woman,  and  she  lives  the  other  way." 

"  It  was  n't  the  school  teacher,"  he  said  positively. 
"  Funny,  I  stepped  a  little  to  one  side  while  I  was  look- 
ing from  the  trail  down  at  the  place,  and  I  could  n't  find 
it  again." 

She  made  no  response,  but  presently  spoke  of  the  com- 
ing of  Spencer's  sister.    "I  hear  she's  a  pretty  fine  lady." 

He  laughed.  "Spencer  is  a  confirmed  admirer  of  the 
fair  sex.  He  swears  you're  a  'fine  gell'  every  time  I 
speak  of  you." 

"And  you  think  likely  he*s  blinded  to  his  sister's 
faults,  too?" 

"You  know  I  don't  mean  that,"  he  said  awkwardly. 
"  I  'm  an  admirer  of  you  myself." 

"My  sakes!  You'll  be  paying  me  compliments  next  I 
But  I  hope  Mr.  Spencer's  sister  will  like  it  here.  He 
seems  set  on  having  her  enjoy  it." 

"What's  her  name?"  he  demanded. 

Sally  was  plainly  embarrassed.  "He  didn't  say," 
she  murmured,  fleeing  within  the  cabin  on  a  pretext  of 
having  to  put  her  bread  in  the  oven. 

"Funny,"  thought  Hal,  as  he  went  slowly  homeward. 
"Spencer  never  said  a  word  about  his  sister  before.  I 
wonder  who  and  what  she  is.  Maybe  she's  a  spinster." 
He  decided  she  must  be,  as  her  name  had  never  been 


172         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

mentioned,  and  it  was  probable  that  Spencer  had  taken 
it  for  granted  that  they  would  know  her  name  was  the 
same  as  his.  He  thought  possibly  it  would  be  best  to 
dress  up  a  little  when  he  went  down  to  McCarthy's  the 
next  day  to  meet  them,  as  it  was  not  unlikely  that  Miss 
Spencer  was  youthful. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WHEN  he  had  left  Hal  Marini,  after  so  unsatis- 
factory a  conversation,  Lim  White  pursued  his 
way  towards  Depot  Bay  with  mingled  feelings  of  chagrin 
and  desire  for  revenge.  His  shrewd,  rather  comely  face 
expressed  little  of  his  thoughts;  but  his  clenched  fists 
and  jerkily  swinging  arms  betrayed,  even  to  himself,  the 
strength  of  his  emotion.  For  in  his  case  feeling  —  desire, 
of  a  primitive  kind  —  held  the  place  of  intellect.  In 
other  communities  White  had  not  been  successful.  His 
defective  education  had  combined  with  a  sullen  tenacity 
of  appetite  to  render  him  incapable  of  cold  scheming  or 
honest  industry.  In  a  society  where  success  had  its 
price  in  constant  sacrifice  of  the  present,  and  in  unwearied 
effort,  he  had  won  the  distrust  of  others  and  a  certain 
measure  of  ill  repute.  He  had  been  considered  "unsafe  "; 
at  last  he  had  proved  to  himself  that  if  he  were  to  win 
wealth  and  the  position  he  ignobly  and  hotly  desired,  he 
must  go  somewhere  else  than  the  East. 

He  had  arrived  in  the  Siletz  country  bent  on  finding 
sudden  riches.    His  mind  had  been  inflamed  —  or  those 


174         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

desires  that  served  him  for  a  mind  —  by  the  hints  thrown 
out  by  agents  of  big  lumber  companies.  Lacking  im- 
agination, he  had  become  convinced  not  only  of  the  possi- 
bility of  wealth  by  dealing  in  timber,  but  he  had  learned 
the  methods  by  which  some  of  that  wealth  could  be  made 
his.  His  timidity  had  been  banished  by  the  view  of  the 
impunity  of  others.  His  shrewdness  quickly  made  him 
known  to  one  or  two  gentlemen  whose  business  it  was  to 
get  hold  of  timbered  homesteads,  and  within  a  year  of 
his  arrival  he  had  taken  the  place  he  now  occupied  —  that 
of  a  shrewd,  taciturn,  unscrupulous  operator.  At  first  he 
had  been  wary  of  stirring  up  enmity.  But,  as  success 
followed  his  work,  and  contempt  for  the  weaker  grew  fat, 
he  threw  off  all  semblance  of  care  for  the  opinion  of  his 
possible  victim.  Timber  was  all  he  was  after,  and  he  got 
timber  by  any  means  in  his  power. 

As  he  proceeded  this  dim  afternoon  to  his  own  claim, 
which  was  his  by  intrigue  and  trickery,  he  suffered  no 
remorse.  Instead,  it  was  with  pride  that  he  recalled  how 
clever  he  had  been,  how  surely  he  had  carried  every 
scheme  to  success.  The  Siletz  was  a  vast  field  of  opera- 
tions. He  was  not  alone,  by  any  means,  in  his  profession; 
but  he  had  been  prosperous  beyond  all  others.  Now  he 
was  on  the  point  of  crowning  his  career  by  proving  up 
on  the  richest  homestead  in  all  that  forest.  Two  months 
from  now  he  would  be  able  to  sell  it  for  twenty  thousand 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         175 

dollars,  which,  with  his  other  earnings,  would  enable 
him  to  quit  the  timber  for  ever  and  enjoy  himself. 

Consequently  his  wrath  at  Marini's  contest  was  almost 
ferocious.  It  menaced  the  harvest  of  years  of  labor.  He 
was  confident  that  his  "friends"  would  see  to  it  that 
Marini  stood  no  chance.  But  White  was  a  physical 
coward.  The  open  defiance  he  had  just  met  with  affected 
him  Uke  a  physical  blow,  and  he  cringed.  The  deeper  his 
sense  of  having  been  humiliated,  the  profounder  his  de- 
sire to  have  revenge.  In  this  revenge  he  would  include 
the  feeble  and  ridiculous  Spencer.  Gossip  had  told  him 
how  Spencer  regarded  him,  and  malice  had  intimated 
that  mingled  with  Spencer's  anger  at  the  cheat  was  a 
large  and  outspoken  contempt.  It  struck  at  the  base  of 
his  dominance  of  the  Siletz  and  his  superiority  to  Mc- 
Carthy and  his  kind. 

Debating  just  how  he  would  sharpen  his  weapons, 
White  traversed  the  dark  trail  until  it  suddenly  abandoned 
the  ridge  and  dropped  into  a  dusky  canyon.  He  scrambled 
down  hastily  and  stopped  on  the  first  bench  to  glance  at 
his  watch.  He  had  an  instinctive  fear  of  the  dark.  In  all 
the  years  he  had  spent  in  the  forest  this  fear  had  never 
left  him.  Now  it  seemed  to  mingle  with  his  remembered 
flinching  from  Hal  Marini,  and  he  cursed  as  he  hastened 
on.  A  mile  further  he  emerged  on  a  wagon-road  and 
knew  that  he  was  now  a  mile  from  Otter  Rock,  where  he 


176         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

could  stop  for  the  night,  if  it  grew  too  dark  to  continue 
to  his  claim. 

While  he  climbed  the  steep  road  and  passed  through 
the  thinly  timbered  benchland,  he  drew  in  large  breaths 
of  the  salty  air.  Just  at  sunset  he  reached  the  shoulder  of 
the  huge  promontory.  The  Pacific's  surf  creamed  against 
the  foot  of  the  cliffs  far  below  him,  sending  up  a  faint 
sound  of  dashing  water  and  hissing  foam.  On  the  horizon 
the  fiery  ball  of  the  sun  shone  through  the  cloud  bank. 
At  the  zenith  a  solitary  pinnacle  of  vapor  glowed  with 
many  colors.  He  halted,  easing  the  weight  of  the  pack 
on  his  shoulders  by  supporting  it  on  a  short  stump,  took 
off  his  hat  and  wiped  his  forehead.  Behind  him,  sunk 
in  darkness  and  obscurity,  lay  the  edge  of  the  forest.  He 
hated  it.  Something  of  its  sunlessness  had  taken  the 
warmth  from  his  heart.  For  that  instant  he  saw  how 
petty,  how  small,  how  mean  his  acts  had  been.  His 
superiority  had  been  false.  Taking  all  his  plans  and 
intrigues  out  of  that  dimly  lit  timber,  spreading  them 
before  his  mind's  eye  in  the  open  spaces  of  the  coast,  he 
suddenly  perceived  that  this  windy,  glaring  height  was 
fatal  to  his  pride  and  self-assurance.  He  decided  not  to 
stop  at  the  settler's  house  beyond  him,  but  to  push  on  and 
bury  himself  again  in  the  shadows.  "  When  I  sell  my  claim," 
he  muttered  to  himself,  "  I  '11  quit  it  all  and  go  somewhere 
,  else.    This  ain't  any  place  for  a  white  man,  anyway." 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         177 

He  hastened  on,  passed  the  single  house  without  stop- 
ping, and  plunged  on  down  the  winding  trail  over  the  high 
downs  to  Rock  Creek.  It  was  dark  when  he  reached  the 
trail  that  led  in  to  his  own  claim  from  the  road,  but  he 
trudged  on,  seeing  his  way  by  the  remaining  light  to 
which,  as  it  faded,  his  eyes  grew  accustomed.  When  he 
finally  reached  his  own  clearing  and  saw  the  light  in  the 
window  that  told  him  McCarthy  awaited  him,  he  realized 
that  he  was  glad.  His  fear  of  the  forest  was  returning  to 
him,  physical  dread  of  the  dark,  and  he  pushed  open  the 
door  hastily.  McCarthy,  stooped  over  the  stove,  straight- 
ened up  with  an  exclamation  of  surprise.  "  I  did  n't  think 
you'd  make  it,"  he  said. 

"I  thought  I  might  as  well  come  right  on,"  White  re- 
turned, throwing  his  pack  to  the  floor.  "WeVe  got  lots 
to  do." 

McCarthy  nodded  and  proceeded  to  cut  more  from  the 
ham  and  to  put  some  extra  potatoes  into  the  kettle. 
"That  young  fellow  seems  to  have  got  you  scared,"  he 
remarked. 

"I'll  fix  him,"  was  the  savage  reply.  "I  met  him  on 
the  trail  this  afternoon.  I  guess  I  gave  him  something  to 
think  about  that  he'll  not  forget  very  soon." 

This  was  a  He.  But  McCarthy,  though  vaguely  aware 
that  White  was  a  boaster,  had  no  reason  to  suppose  that 
Marini  had  fared  any  better  with  White  than  most  of  the 


178         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

settlers,  who  had  been  bullied  and  browbeaten  till  they 
feared  more  than  they  hated. 

"I  guess  he'll  find  out  what  he's  fighting,"  said  the 
old  man  slowly.  "But  I  notice  you  seem  mighty  bent 
on  getting  some  improvements  done." 

"There's  no  need  of  taking  chances,"  White  responded 
briefly. 

They  sat  down  to  their  meal  and  ate  heartily.  When 
they  had  finished,  McCarthy  proceeded  to  wash  the  dishes, 
while  White  sat  and  smoked.  It  was  one  sign  of  his  as- 
cendency that,  wherever  he  might  be,  or  whoever  might 
be  with  him,  he  never  did  any  menial  work  nor  allowed  it 
even  to  be  suggested;  the  proof  of  it  was  that  McCarthy 
did  what  work  there  was  to  be  done  without  grumbling 
and  even  as  if  anxious  to  please. 

Later  White  took  up  the  subject  of  his  thoughts.  "IVe 
got  to  fix  this  Marini  right  away,"  he  said  querulously. 
"Of  course,  I'll  get  the  claim  all  right.  I  guess  I  know 
who's  who  in  the  Land  OflSce,  and  they  know  me.  But 
I  don't  stand  for  any  such  business  from  any  one.  I'll 
teach  this  young  sprig  a  lesson." 

"  I  'U  bet  Spencer  put  him  up  to  it,"  McCarthy  remarked. 
"I  know  he  feels  pretty  sore  over  his  claim  and  the  way 
you  soaked  him.  He  blew  off  his  mouth  the  other  day 
about  it." 

"What  did  he  say?" 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS  179 

McCarthy  glowered  at  the  lamp.  "He  swore  you  were 
a  four-flusher,"  he  said,  with  secret  enjoyment.  "He  let 
on  as  how  anybody  with  grit  and  gumption  could  lay  it 
all  over  you.  He  —  '*  McCarthy's  withered  soul  gleamed 
maliciously  from  his  half-closed  eyes  —  "he  did  n't  seem 
to  think  you  amounted  to  much." 

There  was  a  silence  during  which  White  stared  at  the 
rude  rafters  of  the  cabin,  as  though  he  expected  to 
find  among  them  some  instrument  of  his  immediate 
vengeance. 

"Then  that  makes  two  chaps  that'll  have  to  be 
fixed,"  he  rasped  presently.  "Well,  I  guess  they'll  find 
Lim  White  ready  for  them."  He  dropped  his  eyes  on 
McCarthy. 

"Sure,"  said  his  companion  easily.  "You  know  we're 
all  back  of  you." 

White  did  not  reply.  Instead,  he  rose  and  went  to  a 
shelf  and  pulled  down  a  pamphlet  containing  the  rules 
and  statutes  governing  the  allotment  of  Government 
lands.  Over  this  he  studied  for  a  full  half-hour.  When 
he  closed  it,  he  turned  on  McCarthy  and  said  abruptly: 

"Get  to  work  to-morrow  and  set  out  a  garden.  I've 
got  to  have  some  trees,  too.  I  know  a  claim  here  on 
Depot  Bay  where  there  are  a  lot  of  young  apple-trees 
that  were  set  out  last  year.  We'll  dig  'em  up  and  stick 
'em  round  this  place.     That'll  give  you  an  orchard  to 


180         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

swear  to.  Then  you  must  fell  two  or  three  more  trees. 
That'll  make  my  improvements  up  to  requirements. 
Now  as  to  this  Marini;    who  are  his  witnesses?" 

McCarthy  shook  his  head.  "  I  don't  know,  except  one 
is  the  scout." 

"I  know  that.  And  I  know  who  the  second  one  is.  It's 
one  of  my  own  men.  He  was  pretty  shrewd,  he  was.  Of 
course  the  young  fellow  don't  know  that,  and  he  won't, 
till  he  comes  up  to  trial  and  finds  his  witness  don't  know 
anything  at  all  except  that  I  obeyed  the  law.  But  he 
must  have  some  other  witnesses  besides  them.  Who  are 
they?" 

McCarthy  repeated  his  denial  of  any  knowledge. 
White  accepted  it,  but  with  suspicion  which  he  was 
careful  not  to  show.  By  slow  degrees  he  changed  the 
conversation  round  to  other  plans.  "  I  guess  when  I  sell 
I'll  have  enough  money  to  enjoy  myself  a  while,"  he  said 
easily.    "And  of  course  I  owe  you  something,  too." 

McCarthy's  lips  opened  and  closed,  soundlessly. 

"Yes,  I  do.  Of  course,  we've  sort  of  helped  each  other 
out,  in  good  neighborly  fashion.  I've  loaned  you  money 
and  helped  you  to  several  good  pickings  in  the  way  of 
locating  folks.    But  I  don't  expect  to  ask  you  for  it." 

McCarthy  mumbled  inarticulately,  and  his  companion 
pursued:  "But  to  get  to  things  nearer  home,  I  want  to 
marry  Sally.     I've  got  the  money,  and  she's  got  the 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS  181 

makings  of  a  fine  wife.  And  I  guess  youVe  seen  enough 
of  me  to  know  that  I'll  treat  my  own  folks  pretty  well." 

From  the  chilly  depths  of  the  old  man's  heart  a  sudden 
flicker  of  passion  flamed  up.  Years  of  unrequited  and 
arduous  toil  had  hardened  him,  beaten  him  down,  cowed 
his  spirit.  Now,  for  an  instant,  he  saw  hope  of  wealth  and 
idleness.  The  pioneer  spirit  which  had  led  him  into  the 
forest  had  soured  into  a  dull  obstinacy,  a  stubborn  grasp- 
ing for  money;  he  hated  the  timber;  he  despised  himself 
for  having  so  ill  succeeded.  And,  profounder  than  all, 
that  desire  to  protect  his  child  which  flourishes  best  among 
men  who  know  from  daily  contact  all  the  weariness  of 
labor,  stirred  within  him  at  this  subtle  offer.  He  pon- 
dered it  slowly,  with  relish. 

"I  guess  you  won't  find  much  trouble  in  making  her 
see  it,"  he  said,  after  a  while.  "Sally's  a  good  girl.  I'd 
like  to  see  her  get  a  little  the  best  of  things.  She's  been 
a  good  daughter." 

"That's  right,"  was  the  quick  assent.  "I  know  how 
you  feel  about  it.  I  've  hated  to  think  of  her  spending  all 
her  life  in  this  timber,  while  you  tried  to  make  enough  to 
keep  body  and  soul  together.  Of  course,  if  she  don't  see 
it  that  way,  I  won't  be  hard  on  you.  I  '11  buy  your  claim, 
and  that  will  pay  what  you  owe  me  and  the  store  at  the 
Agency.  But  I  guess  she  will  find  I  'm  a  good  husband  all 
right." 


182         THE  LAND   CLAINERS 

The  veiled  threat  wakened  McCarthy  almost  to  eager- 
ness. 

"Shell  see  it,  all  right,"  he  assured  White.  "SaUy's 
a  good  girl.    She'll  see  it." 

"I  hope  so  —  for  both  our  sakes,"  was  the  response. 

McCarthy  shambled  off  to  bed,  and  White  smiled,  to 
himself,  very  slightly.  He  had  distrusted  McCarthy. 
He  knew  too  much.  But  then  —  "There's  always  a  way 
to  handle  a  man,"  he  remarked.  His  thoughts  dwelt  on 
Sally.  As  much  as  in  him  lay,  he  loved  her.  "She's  been 
brought  up  real  economical,"  he  thought.  "And  she's  a 
peach  to  look  at." 

Later  he  went  over  and  sat  by  the  stove  to  plan  the 
punishment  of  Spencer  and  Hal  Marini.  As  he  meditated, 
biting  his  nails  and  muttering  curses,  a  new  fear  came  over 
him  again,  a  physical  and  irremediable  terror  that  weak- 
ened his  joints.  "  He  said  I  was  a  four-flusher  —  a  bluf- 
fer," he  repeated  to  himself,  and  knew  that  it  was  true. 
He  determined  to  keep  out  of  Spencer's  way  and  to  avoid 
Marini. 


CHAPTER  XrV 

HAL  rose  early  and  spent  some  time  on  his  toilet. 
He  laughed  at  himself  for  doing  so,  for  he  reahzed 
that  it  was  because  of  the  possibility  that  Miss  Spencer 
was  young.  She  came  from  San  Francisco.  By  an  odd 
but  perfectly  natural  course  of  reasoning,  he  had  deduced 
from  the  fact  that  his  mother  knew  and  liked  Spencer  that 
it  was  probable  that  Spencer^s  sister  belonged  to  a  class 
of  society  far  above  the  one  Spencer  evidently  was  ac- 
customed to.  He  felt  that  to  come  to  such  an  out-of-the- 
way  spot  would  be  disappointment  enough.  It  would  be 
soothing  to  find  a  man  there  who  still  wore  decent  clothes 
and  acknowledged  the  sway  of  fashion. 

On  the  trail  to  the  McCarthy  cabin  he  meditated  on 
this,  losing  in  his  sense  of  exile  the  pride  he  had  had  in 
having  contested  Lim  White.  After  all,  what  did  that 
amount  to?  Suppose  he  won  it?  Money  was  the  sole 
reward.  It  was  quite  certain  that  he  would  win  it.  The 
money  was  as  good  as  his.  Like  many  another,  Hal 
affected  to  contemn  wealth  that  he  had.  But  it  gave  him 
a  feeling  of  superiority  to  his  environment  which  was 


184         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

very  pleasant.  He  wondered  how  Miss  Spencer  would 
look  on  Sally.  Oddly  enough,  he  felt  some  resentment 
at  the  stranger's  anticipated  attitude.  Pretty  frocks  and 
impeccable  grammar  were  n't  everything.  Sally  would 
put  to  shame  any  woman  he  knew,  from  pure  beauty  and 
grace.  Clothes  and  style  were  all  she  lacked  —  mere 
superficial  adjuncts,  like  the  twenty  thousand  dollars  he 
would  get  when  he  sold  his  claim. 

Consequently  he  was  more  effusive  than  usual  when  he 
met  Sally  outside  the  cabin.  She  was  dressed  in  the 
inevitable  short  skirt  and  high  leather  boots,  with  a  blue 
flannel  shirt  to  finish  her  costume. 

"You're  looking  fine  this  morning,"  he  said.  "I 
wonder  what  Miss  Spencer  will  say  to  our  timber?  I 
expect  she's  never  seen  anything  like  it  before." 

Sally  accepted  the  "Miss  Spencer"  with  only  a  faint 
flash  from  her  eyes.  She  remarked  that  she  thought  it 
was  lucky  it  was  a  good  day.  The  wind  had  gone  into  the 
east,  and  for  that  period  one  could  look  for  fair  weather. 
"Then  we'll  get  another  storm,"  she  said. 

Hal  sat  down  on  the  bench  by  the  door  and  smoked, 
while  Sally  finished  her  morning's  work.  Presently  she 
came  out  and  sat  beside  him. 

"They  ought  to  be  along  pretty  soon,"  she  remarked. 
She  explained  that  it  was  likely  that  Spencer  had  got  a 
special  rig  to  bring  them  from  Toledo,  as  the  stage  rarely 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         185 

made  the  trip  when  the  mud  was  so  deep.  "  That  would 
bring  them  here  by  noon,"  she  said.  "I  heard  Mr.  Spen- 
cer say  something  about  getting  the  packer  to  bring 
them  in.  Your  —  Miss  Spencer  could  ride,  nearly  all  the 
way.     That  would  be  better  than  walking." 

He  agreed  to  this.  "  I  did  n't  really  figure  out  when 
they  would  come,"  he  admitted.  "But  I  came  over  early. 
I  hope  you  don't  mind." 

"Mysakes!"  she  responded.    "Why  should  I  mind?" 

"  I  don't  know,  unless  because  you  don't  like  me." 

"What  made  you  think  that?"  She  looked  at  him 
frankly. 

"Well  —  something.  And  the  other  day,  when  I  said 
something,  you  ran  away,  crying.  I  could  n't  make  out 
what  I  had  done  and  so  I  decided  that  I  had  just  got  on 
your  feelings." 

"You  do,  sometimes,"  she  confessed.    "But  I  like  you." 

"How  do  I  get  on  your  feelings  —  on  your  nerves?"  he 
demanded. 

She  glanced  at  him  with  mingled  amusement  and 
earnestness. 

"You're  so  sure  of  everything.  You've  come  from 
the  East  and  brought  along  all  your  ideas  and  notions, 
and  you  measure  us  all  by  them.  Now  —  you  think 
I'm  coarse  and  ignorant." 

He  started  to  protest.    She  refused  to  be  halted. 


186        THELANDCLAIMERS 

"Yes,  you  do.  You  compare  me  with  the  girls  you 
knew  in  the  East,  and  what  they  do  with  what  I  do, 
and  you  decide  on  the  spot  that  I  *m  neither  educated  nor 
refined.  I  dress  roughly  and  I  don't  talk  right.  That's 
what  gets  on  my  nerves."  A  note  of  repressed  emotion 
crept  into  her  voice.  "  But  why  should  you  judge  me  by 
those  girls?  I  know  —  better  than  anybody  else  —  that 
I'm  not  as  fine  and  delicate  and  nice  as  the  girls  you 
like.  But  I  Ve  lived  in  the  timber  —  in  the  Siletz  —  all 
my  life,  and  I  've  had  no  chances.  But  when  I  hear  your 
cocksure  opinions,  I'm — I'm  really  glad  I'm  just  what 
I  am!"  She  rose  suddenly,  her  emotion  receding  and 
leaving  her  cold.  "But  what  does  it  matter?  What  do 
you  care  for  my  notions?  " 

"A  lot,"  he  answered  immediately.  "I'm  afraid  I've 
bored  you  to  death." 

"No!  That's  where  I'm  different.  You're  bored 
by  what  you  don't  like  and  don't  know  about.  But 
I'm  always  anxious  to  know  things.  They  don't  bore 
me." 

"Very  likely  you  could  get  some  pointers  from  Miss 
Spencer,"  he  said  ineptly. 

"Very  likely,"  was  her  dry  assent. 

She  went  inside,  and  he  could  not  observe  that  from 
that  refuge  she  was  looking  at  him  with  a  strange  ex- 
pression of  misery,  anger  and  pity.     The  misery  and  the 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         187 

anger  gradually  faded,  but  the  pity  remained  and  deep- 
ened. She  suddenly  reaHzed,  poignantly,  how  pro- 
foundly he  was  to  be  disappointed.  His  mother,  whom 
he  worshiped,  who  was  the  chief  of  women  to  him, 
was  to  be  thrust  down  from  her  pedestal,  was  coming 
like  a  malefactor  to  look  on  her  son  —  and  then  go 
away.  For  Sally  knew  in  her  heart  that  no  subter- 
fuge could  be  quite  successful.  No  matter  how  strictly 
the  pretense  of  "Miss  Spencer"  was  kept  up,  there 
would  be  a  subtle  taint  on  his  ideal  of  his  mother. 
And,  profounder  still,  was  Sally's  resolution  to  try  this 
young  man  in  the  fire,  to  make  plain  to  him  who  his  mother 
was,  that  all  his  memories,  his  thoughts  and  his  dreams 
of  her  were  false,  without  foundation.  No  one  could 
compel  her  to  yield  up  this  conviction  that,  after  all,  the 
truth  must  be  told.  If  he  was  ashamed,  if  he  disowned 
his  mother,  that  treachery  was  unmasked  and  punished. 
If  he  played  the  manly  part,  how  much  better  for  the 
mother,  for  Hal  and  for  Spencer.  Womanlike,  there  was 
a  silent,  almost  unconscious  reservation  to  this.  Flos- 
setta  Marini  must  be  worthy.  Sally  was  not  going  to 
sacrifice  —  and  she  knew  the  extent  of  the  sacrifice  — 
this  son  for  an  undeserving  mother.  Possibly,  had  she 
analyzed  her  motives,  which  she  did  not,  she  would  have 
confessed  that  Hal's  happiness  really  was  a  concern  to 
her.    However  that  may  be,  she  went  out  of  the  cabin,  at 


188         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

the  sound  of  a  halloo,  to  see  what  kind  of  woman  this 
Flossetta  Marini  was,  and  whether  she  was  worth  the 
affection  of  two  men  and  the  self-sacrifice  of  one. 

She  was  glad  when  she  reached  the  door  and  saw  the 
picture  that  Hal  made,  standing  out  in  the  clearing, 
waving  his  hand  to  Spencer  who  was  tramping  down  the 
narrow,  undulating  trail.  For  one  instant  she  discerned 
the  great  difference  between  him  and  all  the  other  men 
she  had  known:  he  was  youthful,  full  of  life  and  hope 
and  ambition  and  dreams,  untouched  by  the  sordid  con- 
ditions of  an  existence  that  had  driven  her  father  and 
all  the  rest  like  animals  to  bay.  Then  she  perceived, 
with  amusement,  the  figure  just  behind  Spencer. 

The  pack  horse,  on  which  Flossetta  Marini  had  made 
the  trip  from  the  Agency  into  the  timber,  had  been  left 
a  mile  from  the  McCarthy  cabin.  The  packer  had  turned 
back,  and  Spencer  and  his  guest  were  now  completing 
the  longest  mile  that  the  actress  had  ever  walked.  Her 
big,  flapping  hat  was  barely  anchored  to  her  loosened 
hair,  and  the  plumes  and  flowers  on  it  seemed  maintain- 
ing a  perilous  balance  by  wild  exertion.  Her  dress,  of 
the  kind  that  looks  best  in  a  Pullman,  had  been  disar- 
ranged and  torn  by  the  heavy  undergrowi:h.  As  she 
stepped  wearily  upon  a  log  that  lay  across  the  trail, 
Sally  detected  thin,  enameled  slippers.  A  parasol,  evi- 
dently serving  as  a  hand-bag,  completed  a  toilet  that 


'You  're  Mr.  Spencer's  sister,  aren't  you?'  Sally  said  " 

Page  189 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         189 

was  both  amazing  and  pitiful.  Sally,  withdrawing  slightly 
into  the  doorway,  smiled,  wiped  sudden  moisture  from 
her  eyes,  and  then  stepped  out  again.  She  caught 
Spencer*s  tired  look,  flashed  him  a  tender  smile  and 
slipped  across  the  clearing  towards  them,  past  Hal  and 
up  to  the  old  woman,  who  halted,  breathing  harshly 
through  pale  lips,  and  staring  at  her  son. 

"You're  Mr.  Spencer's  sister,  aren't  you?"  Sally 
said,  shaking  hands  and  reaching  out  for  the  bulging 
parasol.  "My  sakes!  but  you  must  be  tired!  Come 
right  on  down  into  the  house." 

Flossetta  surrendered  the  parasol,  gave  a  weary  dab 
at  her  hat  and  followed  Sally  down  the  trail  and  into  the 
clearing.  Spencer,  assuming  an  air  of  profound  and  in- 
extinguishable joviality,  brought  up  the  rear  and  dragged 
a  huge  suit-case  behind  him.  As  they  came  up  to  Hal, 
Spencer  called  out:  "Come  and  meet  my  sister.  Shake 
hands  with  Hal  Marini,  Miss  Fl  —  Flora." 

Hal  stepped  forward  politely  and  was  astonished  to 
find  his  hand  clutched  fiercely.  He  stared  at  the  woman 
in  some  confusion.  She  saw  his  embarrassment  and  in- 
stantly dropped  his  hand.  "I'm  so  glad  to  see  one  of 
Sim*s  friends  that  I  think  they  must  be  mine,"  she  said, 
in  an  oddly  full,  vibrant  voice.  He  thought,  meeting  her 
hurried  glance,  that  her  eyes  were  faded  and  weary. 
Sally,  more  shrewd,  knew  the  signal  for  tears  and  swept 


190        THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

her  guest  away  by  main  force,  calling  back  cheerfully  to 
the  men  to  make  themselves  at  home. 

Spencer,  lifting  the  suit-case  carefully  into  the  cabin, 
closed  the  door  and  took  a  seat  on  the  bench.  Hal,  in 
great  confusion  still,  and  wondering  whether  anybody 
had  noticed  the  preposterous  actions  of  Miss  Spencer, 
strode  back  and  forth  and  smoked  furiously. 

"That's  a  tough  trip,"  Spencer  remarked.  "Specially 
on  a  delicate  lady  like  my  sister." 

"I  hope  she  won't  feel  any  the  worse  for  it,"  Hal  said 
politely. 

"I  hope  she  won't.  But  there  ain't  many  fine  ladies 
would  come  all  this  way  to  see  a  relative." 

Hal  assented,  thinking  of  how  horrible  his  mother 
would  have  found  the  trail,  the  hotel  at  the  Agency  and 
the  hovels  in  the  timber.  But  this  sister  of  Spencer's  — 
what  in  the  world  did  his  mother  mean  by  taking  up  with 
such  people?  The  woman  was  impossible.  She  was  fifty, 
if  she  was  a  day,  and  she  was  evidently  "soft"  (he  had 
heard  that  unmarried  females  sometimes  grew  quite  dis- 
gustingly effusive  and  flirtatious  with  age);  and  what 
did  she  mean  by  seizing  his  hand  so  affectionately? 

Spencer's  smile  grew  more  strained,  but  Hal  did  not 
notice  it  in  his  absorption  in  this  fresh  subject  for  thought. 
He  was  glad  he  had  not  said  anything  about  his  expecta- 
tions and  deductions  as  to  Miss  Spencer's  youth  and 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         191 

fashion.  But  then  ^  it  struck  him  as  inexplicable  — 
there  was  a  feeling  stirring  within  him  that  he  would  like 
to  protect  this  woman.  She  must  have  come  a  long  way! 
She  was  really  quite  old,  and  her  dress  showed  that  she 
had  had  no  inkling  of  what  the  timber  held  of  roughness 
and  discomfort.  •  .  . 

Within  the  cabin  two  women  stood  staring  at  each 
other,  one  young,  breathless  and  downcast,  the  other 
miserably  trying  to  maintain  a  careless  and  smiling  in- 
difference to  her  wretched  state.  Sally  tried  to  say 
many  things,  to  urge  her  guest  to  take  off  her  wraps  and 
rest;  she  intended  to  inquire  whether  she  was  hungry, 
whether  she  needed  a  nap.  And  all  that  she  could  do 
was  to  meet  that  brave,  pitiful  stare.  Suddenly  Flos- 
setta  Marini  stumbled  forward  a  step.  Strong  arms 
caught  her,  held  her.    Sally's  confusion  was  swept  away. 

"  My  sakes  1"  she  whispered.    "  You  *re  just  worn  out ! " 

"It'll  kill  me!"  Flossetta  panted.  "Spencer  told  me 
that  you  knew  —  that  you  would  help.  Did  you  see  how 
he  looked  at  me?    My  God!" 

"Hush!  They'll  hear  us,"  Sally  warned  her  gently. 
"You're  just  fagged  out.  Lie  down  now,  and  I'll  get 
you  some  clothes  out  of  your  grip." 

She  made  the  elder  woman  lie  down  and  opened  the 
suit-case.  She  closed  it  again,  without  a  word,  and  went 
to  her  own  retreat  back  of  the  calico  curtain  whence  she 


192        THELANDCLAIMERS 

shortly  emerged  with  some  of  her  own  clothes.  Flossetta 
glanced  at  her  weakly. 

''I  did  n't  bring  any  —  any  warm  clothes." 

"IVe  got  plenty.  Don't  worry.  These  men!  I  sup- 
pose Mr.  Spencer  never  said  a  word  about  what  sort  of  a 
land  this  was.    Now  you  lie  still  while  I  get  things  ready." 

An  hour  later  Spencer  and  Hal  were  invited  in.  "We'll 
have  a  good  dinner,"  Sally  said,  "and  we'll  all  feel  better. 
You  look  pretty  nearly  tuckered  out,  Mr.  Spencer." 

"I've  heard  that  I  could  n't  cook,"  that  gentleman  re- 
plied airily,  "but  since  I've  ate  in  them  hotels  outside 
I  know  I  can  cook.  It's  the  other  fellow  that  can't.  I 
wonder  my  —  my  sister  ever  stood  it  this  far." 

They  tramped  in,  and  Hal  sought  a  seat  in  a  far  corner 
whence  he  could  look  out  and  be  silent.  He  was  tired  of 
the  whole  thing.  He  wondered  how  long  this  woman 
was  going  to  stay. 

Flossetta  sat  behind  the  stove,  deep  in  the  shadow. 
Hal  could  distinguish  nothing  except  the  pallor  of  her 
face.  In  the  poor  light  she  looked  quite  youthful.  She 
said  nothing,  and  Spencer,  after  one  or  two  ineffectual 
attempts  to  elicit  a  word  from  her,  gave  it  up  and  de- 
voted himself  to  joking  with  Sally. 

When  the  meal  was  on  the  table,  Hal  and  Spencer 
came  forward  and  Sally  called:  "Come  and  sit  up  to 
dinner,  Miss  Spencer.    It  ain't  fine,  but  it's  hot." 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         193 

As  the  guest  slowly  emerged,  Hal  dropped  his  fork 
clattering  to  the  floor,  and  Spencer,  his  dark  eyes  gleam- 
ing with  sudden  and  mysterious  flame,  choked  audibly. 
For  the  bedraggled  and  withered  woman  who  had  entered 
the  cabin  had  disappeared.  In  her  stead  a  comely,  de- 
mure and  attractive  woman  came  forward.  She  was 
dressed  in  a  blue  flannel  shirt  and  a  short  skirt.  A  red 
tie  and  carefully  coiled  hair  added  to  her  charm.  With 
a  sure,  if  languid,  grace  she  slipped  into  a  chair  and  looked 
at  Hal  with  warm  tremulous  eyes.  Spencer,  in  a  wild 
paroxysm  of  coughing,  left  the  table.  Flossetta's  eyes 
left  Hal  and  followed  him  anxiously. 

"Is  his  cough  always  so  bad?"  she  asked  softly. 

"It's  pretty  bad  sometimes,"  Sally  replied,  helping 
her  guests;  "but  he  never  complains." 

"He  never  did,"  was  the  response.  "Sim  Spencer 
never  was  a  quitter." 

Hal  stared.  It  was  impossible,  this  transfiguration. 
His  eyes  had  fooled  him.  This  was  certainly  not  the 
slovenly,  ill-dressed,  elderly  female  whom  he  had  pitied 
so  superciliously  an  hour  before.    He  was  silent. 

Spencer  returned,  very  pale  and  weak.  As  he  sat 
down  again,  his  eyes  rested  on  his  supposed  sister.  She 
glanced  at  him  shyly.  "  Sim,  you  have  n*t  been  takin' 
care  of  yourself." 

"YouVe  done  pretty  well,"  he  answered.     "I  never 


194         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

seen  you  look  better.  You  look  just  like  you  did  twenty 
years  ago,  when  you  was  playin'  in  'The  Danites.'" 
He  ignored  her  quick  gesture  of  warning  and  stared  at 
the  ceiling.  "Twenty  years  ago!  More!  Pretty  near 
thirty!" 

"And  Fm  still  playin'  that  part/'  she  said,  in  a  clear, 
vibrant  voice.    "I'm  still  as  good  at  it  as  ever,  Sim!" 

He  slowly  took  in  her  meaning. 

Hal  broke  the  silence  by  asking  abruptly:  "Did  you 
know  my  mother  on  the  stage.  Miss  Spencer?" 

"She  and  I  were  together  several  years,"  was  the 
reply. 

He  smiled,  easily.  "You  must  tell  me  about  her,"  he 
went  on.    "  I  Ve  never  seen  her  since  I  was  a  kid." 

The  ice  thus  broken,  the  little  party  gossiped  and 
chatted,  while  Sally  pressed  Spencer  to  eat  more,  sur- 
reptitiously passing  tid-bits  to  him  and  frowning  when 
he  rejected  them.  Miss  Spencer,  to  be  sure,  took  little 
part  in  the  conversation,  and  confined  her  words  to  an 
occasional  "  Yes  "  or  "  Is  that  so?  " 

After  dinner* Hal  refused  all  invitations  to  stay  and 
left  for  home,  remarking  that  Spencer  and  his  sister 
would  have  much  to  talk  about.  His  thoughts  were  in  a 
tumult.  He  retraced  all  the  events  of  the  past  months 
since  he  had  arrived  in  the  Siletz;  but  he  made  little  of 
it.     It  amounted,  he  concluded,  to  his  being  involved  in 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         195 

a  lawsuit  and  standing  a  good  chance  to  win  twenty 
thousand  dollars.  Then  he  proceeded  to  meditate  on 
Miss  Spencer's  coming  and  the  incomprehensible  change 
in  her  appearance,  dress  and  manner. 

In  the  McCarthy  cabin  his  employer  was  trying  to 
understand  what  Flossetta  Marini  meant  when  she  re- 
fused to  promise  to  visit  his  cabin,  even  for  an  hour,  and 
asserted  that  she  was  going  back  to  civilization. 

"But  youVe  just  come,"  he  insisted.  "You  ain't 
been  here  hardly  an  hour,  and  here  you're  for  pickin' 
up  and  leavin'.    What's  the  matter?" 

Flossetta  leaned  forward,  with  a  girlish  and  delightful 
grace.    "  Don't  I  look  as  young  as  ever?  "  she  demanded. 

Spencer  looked  at  her  hungrily.  "Ye  look  as  pretty  as 
when  I  first  knew  you." 

"It's  just  acting,"  she  said  stonily.  "I  saw  how  Hal 
looked  at  me  when  I  came.  And  Miss  McCarthy  handed 
me  the  same  sort  of  clothes  I  used  to  wear  before  Hal 
was  born,  when  I  was  playing  in  the  old  theatre  on  Mont- 
gomery Street,  in  San  Francisco.  So  it  struck  me  maybe 
I  was  up  to  the  old  tricks."  She  stared  at  him  with 
faded  eyes.  "But  I'm  old,  Sim.  Vaudeville's  taken  all 
the  spring  out  of  me.  And  this  is  the  last  act.  I  'm  going 
to  quit  now.  If  you  want  to,  you  can  tell  Hal  it  was  his 
mother  —  after  I'm  gone  away.  I  can't  keep  it  up  be- 
cause —  because  -^  he's  my  little  boy ! " 


196         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

Sally  glanced  at  them.  Beneath  the  false  color  and 
the  forced  smile  she  discerned  the  aged  and  worn  woman. 
Truly  she  had  been  amazed  at  the  eagerness  with  which 
this  strange  woman  had  adopted  her  dress,  had  worked 
over  her  hair  and  slaved  before  the  mirror.  Now  she 
understood  what  it  all  meant.  It  was  the  actress  em- 
ploying her  arts  for  a  final  appearance.  But  her  fresh 
spirit  could  not  understand  this  acceptance  of  an  evil  and 
forlorn  fate.  Why  should  Mrs.  Marini  abandon  her  son, 
whom  she  loved?  Why  should  she  refuse  to  try  his 
affection  and  his  manliness  by  explaining  who  she  was 
and  the  claims  she  had  on  him?  She  reached  out  and 
touched  Spencer's  hand.    . 

"Why  don't  you  tell  Hal?"  she  demanded. 

"No!  no!"  cried  his  mother.  "I  couldn't  stand  it. 
He's  always  been  told  I  was  rich  and  fashionable,  and 
lived  in  a  fine  house  in  San  Francisco.  He'd  despise 
me!" 

"Why  did  you  tell  him  that?"  she  demanded  im- 
placably. 

There  was  a  dull  silence.  Spencer  rolled  a  cigarette 
and  lit  it  with  a  trembling  hand,  while  Flossetta  stared 
out  at  the  dark  forest  that  edged  up  to  the  very 
window. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said  finally  and  as  if  the  words 
were  dragged  from  her.    "  He  used  to  think  I  was  pretty 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         197 

and  beautiful.  I  always  wanted  him  to  think  so.  So  — 
so  I  let  him  think  so.  His  father  could  n't  stand  a 
homely  woman." 

"You  are  —  still,"  Spencer  croaked.  "You're  just  as 
lovely  as  ever." 

"Much  obliged,  Sim.  I  know  you  think  so.  You 
always  were  a  good  friend.  But  I  know  better.  I'm 
forty-three.  I've  been  playing  since  I  was  sixteen.  And 
the  jig 's  up.  I'm  going  away.  I've  —  I've  seen  —  my 
—  my  son."    She  put  her  face  on  her  hands  and  sobbed. 

Sally  leaned  over  her  and  laid  a  fresh,  cool  hand  on 
her  head.  "He's  your  son,"  she  said  softly;  "so  trust 
him." 

But  her  confidence  was  shared  by  neither  Spencer  nor 
the  mother.  Spencer  merely  shook  his  head,  as  much  as 
to  say  that  it  was  useless.  And  Flossetta  sobbed  miser- 
ably over  the  event  of  her  lie.  Sally  forebore  to  press 
the  subject.  Her  own  mind  was  made  up.  In  her  own 
good  time  she  would  tell  this  young  man  that  it  was  his 
mother  who  had  come  into  the  forest  to  see  him,  to  assure 
herself  that  he  was  all  right,  before  she  went  away  to  die. 
What  she  said  was:  "You  can  keep  on  doing  this  — 
this  play  acting?" 

The  ghost  of  the  former  beauty  looked  out  of  the  tired 
eyes  of  Flossetta.    "Not  long,"  she  murmured. 

Spencer  rose  and  took  down  his  cap  and  jacket.    "  I  '11 


198         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

be  movin'  on/'  he  said  awkwardly.  "I'll  just  leave  you 
with  Sally,  Miss  Flossetta.  You're  tired  and  need  sleep." 
He  paused  in  the  doorway  to  stare  at  her  reassuringly. 
" Don't  lose  your  nerve.  You  just  leave  it  to  Sim.  He'll 
fix  things  all  right."    The  door  closed  on  him. 

He  walked  home  slowly,  revolving  in  his  mind  all  that 
he  still  had  to  do.  "I  gotta  make  some  weight,"  he  mut- 
tered to  himself.  "  It  ain't  no  use  in  tryin'  to  make  Flos- 
setta go  to  Hal  and  tell  him.  And  I  '11  bet  he  would  n't 
more'n  half  believe  it,  anyway.    But  I'll  fix  things!" 

The  cabin  had  never  seemed  blanker  of  interest  than 
it  did  to  Hal  when  he  returned  after  greeting  his  em- 
ployer's sister,  as  he  supposed.  He  mooned  round  for  an 
hour  and  then  suddenly  bethought  him  of  Miss  Rey- 
nolds, the  school  teacher.  He  had  discovered  a  day  or  so 
before  that  her  claim  lay  across  a  section  from  Spencer's, 
and  was  to  be  reached  by  an  over-grown  trail  turning  off 
not  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  where  Spencer's  trail  began. 
In  his  present  mood  of  restlessness  it  needed  only  the 
suggestion  to  send  him  off  to  visit  her.  He  found  the 
trail,  barely  traceable  in  the  brush,  and  was  soon  busily 
fighting  his  way  over  it. 

Miss  Fletcher,  like  most,  had  bought  a  relinquishment. 
Her  cabin,  built  in  the  "stockade"  fashion,  with  walls 
of  upright  hemlock  saplings,  stood  in  the  center  of  a  very 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         199 

small  clearing,  which  was  traversed  by  a  brook.  Hal 
found  her  busy  outside  tending  an  infinitesimal  brush 
fire  that  represented  her  efforts  to  obey  the  law  that  she 
should  clear  more  ground  each  season.  He  was  pleased  to 
observe  that  she  was  dressed  like  women  "outside/'  as 
he  had  learned  to  term  the  world  beyond  the  boundaries 
of  the  Siletz  reservation,  and  his  feeling  was  intensified 
when  he  saw  that  she  wore  gloves.  She  received  him 
formally,  shaking  hands  with  him  and  asking  him  if  he 
enjoyed  the  good  weather. 

"  I  had  n't  made  my  party  call  on  you  yet,"  he  said, 
taking  the  trowel  out  of  her  hand  and  setting  himself  to 
work.  "  I  suppose  you  think  I  don't  owe  you  one,  as  you 
never  entertained  me.  But  I  enjoyed  your  society  so 
much  Christmas  day  that  I  felt  I  really  owed  you  the 
tribute  of  a  call." 

Her  smile  was  pleasant.  "  I  did  n't  know  whether 
you'd  ever  come  and  see  me  or  not,"  she  answered.  "As 
a  matter  of  fact,  I  don't  expect  to  see  anybody  and  so 
I'm  surprised." 

"Now  I  hope  you're  pleased,  too,"  he  returned. 

"Quite  so." 

They  talked  of  the  loneliness  of  the  timber,  of  the 
oddity  of  their  neighbors,  for  a  while.  "  I  really  enjoyed 
that  dinner  at  Miss  McCarthy's,"  she  said  presently. 
"But  did  you  ever  see  such  an  aggregation?" 


200        THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

" Never,"  he  replied.    "  But  I  rather  Hke  them." 

She  was  indifferent.  "1  confess  they  bore  me.  Not 
that  they  are  n't  good  folks  and  all  that.    But  then  — " 

"You  mean  they're  not  our  sort?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  she  said,  with  a  smile.  "Aren't  we 
horrid?" 

He  disagreed  with  her.  "After  all,  each  one  of  us  has 
to  live  our  own  life,"  he  concluded  sagely. 

"Isn't  that  true?"  she  acquiesced.  "I  am  just  be- 
ginning to  realize  how  absurd  these  socialists  are;  are  n't 
they  the  people  that  claim  we  must  all  do  the  same  thing 
and  have  the  same  social  position?" 

"I  think  they  do.  But  here's  you  and  me  —  doing 
just  what  they  say  is  the  right  thing." 

She  grimaced  prettily.  "  But  I  'm  doing  it  just  for  the 
money." 

"Same  here,"  he  responded. 

"Then  we  sha'n't  stay  here  after  we  get  it,  shall  we? 
Aren't  you  glad?" 

As  she  talked  on  he  liked  her  more  and  more.  There 
was  a  certain  sureness,  poise,  reserve  about  her  that 
satisfied  him,  he  thought.  She  was  evidently  a  girl  of 
good  social  position.  He  wondered  why  she  needed  the 
money;  it  must  be  hard  on  her;  she  was  plucky!  And 
having  reached  this  conclusion,  he  admired  her  vastly. 

Among  other  things  she  told  him  that  part  of  the  ex- 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         201 

pense  she  had  to  bear  was  that  of  a  companion.  "Of 
course  I  could  n't  come  out  here  and  Uve  by  myself/*  she 
explained.  "I  know  everybody  does.  But  do  you  think 
it  just  the  thing?" 

He  confessed  he  did  n't  know.  It  had  n't  occurred  to 
him.  She  settled  the  question  definitely  and,  he  thought, 
with  great  deHcacy  by  saying:  "I  don't  see  as  what's 
right  at  home  is  n't  right  in  the  wilderness.  So  I  have  a 
companion.  She 's  away,  visiting  with  some  people  up  the 
trail,  or  else  I'd  ask  you  in."  Later  she  remarked  that 
she  was  going  to  call  on  Miss  McCarthy  the  next  day. 

"She's  got  a  visitor  now,"  he  told  her.  "Mr.  Spencer's 
sister  is  staying  with  her." 

"How  interesting!  Is  she  anything  like  Mr.  Spencer? 
Is  n't  he  a  wonder?  " 

"He's  got  lots  of  good  qualities,"  he  said  stiffly. 

"Of  course!  But  he's  funny!  I  sha'n't  rest  till  I  see 
his  sister.    I  feel  sure  she's  interesting." 

When  Hal  reached  the  cabin,  Spencer  was  already  in 
bed. 

"I'm  sort  of  fagged,"  he  explained  hoarsely.  "So  I 
hit  the  straw." 

Hal  nodded  and  turned  up  the  lamp.  "I  should  think 
you  would  be.  I  hope  your  sister  won't  suffer  from  her 
trip." 

Spencer  made  no  answer  and  Hal,  lighting  his  pipe, 


202        THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

sat  down  to  dream  of  wealth  and  fame.  Miss  Fletcher's 
cool  face  and  calm  eyes  rose  before  him,  and  he  gave  her 
a  share  in  his  plans.  After  all,  when  he  did  marry,  he 
would  marry  in  his  own  class.  In  his  loneliness  the 
genius  of  propinquity  had  found  a  chance  to  subjugate 
him.  Already  he  was  half  in  love  with  the  ex-school 
teacher.  For  he  was  young  and  ardent,  and  filled  with 
vague  desires  and  ambitions,  and  the  presence  of  a  woman 
was  needful  for  their  ripening.  He  determined  to  see 
Miss  Fletcher  frequently. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  dawn  came  soon  after  Spencer  had  had  his 
breakfast.  It  had  turned  cold.  The  trees  were 
still,  rising  gauntly  into  a  cheerless  sky.  Their  great  limbs 
were  covered  with  frost,  and  every  little  bunch  of  grass 
in  the  clearing  was  hoar  and  crisp  with  it.  The  frigid 
air  seemed  to  Spencer  to  shrivel  the  flesh  on  his  bones. 
The  intense  silence  strained  his  nerves.  He  restlessly 
washed  the  dishes  and  brought  in  more  wood  for  the 
fire  before  he  left  the  cabin  and  Hal,  sound  asleep, 
for  the  trail. 

When  he  got  in  sight  of  the  McCarthy  cabin,  he  saw  a 
cloud  of  gray  smoke  rising  from  the  chimney  and  knew 
that  Sally  was  getting  breakfast.  It  was  very  early,  but 
the  fashion  of  the  timber  is  different  from  that  of  the 
cities,  and  he  unhesitatingly  crossed  the  clearing  and 
knocked  at  the  door.  Sally  called  "Come  in,"  and  he 
entered,  to  discover  her  busy  over  the  stove.  Flossetta 
Marini,  still  dressed  in  Sally's  clothes,  was  setting  the 
table.  She  greeted  him  warmly,  and  he  glowed  with 
pleasure. 


204         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

"  Pretty  soon,  ain't  it  ?  "  he  remarked.  "  But  then  I 
was  achin'  to  know  how  you  got  along.  Sally  treat  you 
all  right?" 

"Yes.  She  is  very  kind.  I  went  right  to  bed  after  you 
left  and  I  really  slept  fine.  Honest  I  did,  Sim."  Her 
eyes  for  one  instant  took  on  a  lively  and  witching  co- 
quetry that  Sim  remembered  of  old.  That  look  had  first 
conquered  his  heart,  and  he  responded  to  it  like  a  horse  to 
the  whip.  He  swaggered  a  little  as  he  drew  a  chair  out  to 
the  middle  of  the  room  and  sat  down,  with  an  air. 

"This  life  next  to  nature  is  the  thing,"  he  remarked. 
"I  found  it  so.  Look  at  me!  Ain't  I  growin'.  Miss 
Sally?" 

She  glanced  over  at  him,  smiling.  "Yes,  you're  putting 
on  weight  every  day." 

His  face  suddenly  grew  grim.  "Yes.  Weight.  That's 
what  I  need."    He  relapsed  into  silence. 

Flossetta  seemed  somewhat  puzzled  by  this  change  of 
demeanor.  Sally  noticed  her  bewilderment  and  explained 
it.  "Mr.  Spencer's  got  a  row  on  with  some  people  here 
and  he's  getting  ready  to  lick  them."  She  laughed  at  the 
jest. 

"I  hope  Hal's  doing  all  right,"  his  mother  said  quickly. 

"Oh,  he  ain't  in  it,"  was  the  curt  reply.  "It's  just  me 
and  another  fellow." 

"Your  son  has  taken  up  one  of  the  best  claims  in  the 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS        205 

reservation/'  Sally  hastened  on,   warned  by  Spencer's 
glance.    "He'll  make  several  thousand  dollars  on  it." 

"Thanks,  Sim,"  Flossetta  said  simply.  She  bent  over 
the  table,  and  he  saw  her  thin  hand  tremble  over  the 
dishes. 

All  his  love  for  her,  his  profound  and  unselfish  affection, 
seemed  to  have  suddenly  achieved  its  reward.  Before 
his  dim  eyes,  dim  with  unaccustomed  moisture,  she  re- 
sumed the  youth  and  beauty  of  the  girl  he  had  known 
years  before.  A  manlier  chord  was  touched,  too.  Instead 
of  allowing  his  intimate  and  deep  emotion  at  this  great 
acknowledgment  to  discover  itself,  to  embarrass  her,  he 
choked  back  what  he  had  on  his  lips  and  threw  out  a 
brave  hand  carelessly. 

"  I  did  n't  have  nothin'  to  do  with  it.  Hal 's  a  foxy  lad. 
He  picked  it  up  himself.  He  '11  be  a  fine  man,  with  money 
to  burn." 

"  I  'm  glad,"  she  said  quietly.  "  It  '11  make  things  easier 
for  —  for  me." 

"Cheer  up!"  he  urged  lightly. 

She  turned  on  him.  "I  know  I'm  a  death's-head,"  she 
said.  "  But  I  've  tried  to  stand  between  my  boy  and  this 
wretched,  miserable  world.  You  don't  know  how  I've 
prayed  —  yes,  prayed,  right  in  my  dressing-room  in  the 
theater,  that  Hal  might  be  a  noble  man  and  be  happy. 
And  I  was  right,  all  the  time.    I  knew  he'd  never  have 


206        THE    LANDCLAIMERS 

forgiven  me,  if  heM  known  all  that  I  had  to  do.  He's 
had  the  best  education  money  could  buy,  and  IVe  been 
dancing  an'  singing  in  vaudeville!  And  I'm  glad  I'm 
old,  too.  If  I  were  n't,  I  'd  try  to  make  him  love  me  and 
know  I  was  a  good  mother  and  have  a  good  time  with  me 
and  go  to  places  with  me  —  and  he  'd  hate  me.  But 
I'm  old  and  worn  out  and  —  and  —  "  she  burst  into 
tears. 

"Cheer  up.  Miss  Flossetta!"  Spencer  implored  her. 

She  raised  her  twisted  face  and  confronted  them  both. 
"I'm  silly,  I  know.  But  I'm  tired.  And  somehow  I'd 
hoped  maybe  Hal  would  recognize  me.  Of  course  I'm 
glad  he  did  n't.  How  could  the  boy?  He  did  n't  know 
his  mother  was  a  miserable  old  woman  with  thin  shoes 
and  a  torn  dress." 

Spencer  stumbled  to  his  feet  and  went  to  the  door.  As 
he  stared  out,  and  the  chill  air  penetrated  him,  he  saw, 
with  strange  pangs,  the  vista  of  life.  He  had  never  before 
caught  both  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  an  existence 
that  was  too  varied  to  afford  leisure  for  contemplation. 
Now  he  saw  both  the  first  and  the  last  of  his  prime.  It 
began,  how  plainly  he  saw  it!  in  a  dingy  dressing-room 
littered  with  all  the  paraphernalia  of  an  actress.  Standing 
before  the  mirror,  adjusting  her  bewitching  bonnet  over 
her  curls,  he  saw  Flossetta.  He  saw  her  turn  round  and 
say  softly :  "  I  'm  sorry,  Sim.    But  I  'm  going  to  be  married 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         207 

day  after  to-morrow."  She  continued  to  arrange  her 
pretty  bonnet. 

That  had  ended  his  romance.  He  had  gone  out,  blindly, 
with  love  still  warm  in  his  heart,  deepened  by  the  rever- 
ence every  man  has  for  a  woman  who  has  kept  herself 
apart  for  the  man  she  loved.  And  now,  in  the  midst  of 
the  vast,  cold,  sunless  forest,  a  mother  was  sobbing  for 
her  first-born,  her  only  son,  a  woman  who  had  struggled 
against  poverty,  against  misery,  against  the  world  that  she 
might  save  that  son.  He  had  hoped  —  without  admitting 
it  to  himself  —  that  it  might  be  possible  for  him  to  take 
this  weary  woman  away  from  all  her  troubles  and  protect 
her  and  cherish  her.  But  it  was  impossible.  He  had  lost 
his  strength  and  his  money.  All  that  stood  between  him 
and  utter  poverty  was  a  bill  of  a  small  denomination.  His 
duty  was  the  same  as  it  had  always  been:  to  do  his  best, 
to  be  her  one  sincere  friend.  And  that  meant  to  put  Hal 
safely  in  possession  of  his  claim. 

So,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  a  frosty  April 
day,  Sim  Spencer  came  to  the  end  of  his  romance,  of  his 
hopes,  of  his  joy  in  life,  while  a  woman  sobbed. 

He  turned  slowly  back  into  the  cabin  and  said  curtly, 
"  I  guess  if  there 's  any  breakfast  to  spare,  I  '11  have  some. 
Miss  SaUy." 

"  There 's  lots  of  it,"  was  the  reply.  "  Now,  Mrs.  Marini, 
you  just  cheer  up  and  eat  something.    I  '11  bet  Mr.  Spencer 


208         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

will  fix  everything  just  as  you'd  rather  have  it.  And  Hal 
loves  his  mother  and  will  love  her,  no  matter  what  she 
says." 

"That's  right,"  Spencer  assented  hoarsely. 

After  breakfast  he  split  wood  and  brought  in  water 
from  the  spring,  while  the  women  washed  the  dishes. 
Presently  he  heard  Flossetta's  old  laugh.  He  Hstened, 
with  great  satisfaction.  "All  she  needs  is  some  man  to 
depend  on,"  he  thought.  "This  buttin'  round  without  a 
man  is  h — 1." 

By  ten  o'clock  there  was  a  discussion  whether  Hal 
might  not  be  expected.  Before  this  was  settled  Miss 
Fletcher  appeared,  quite  stunningly  appareled.  Her 
gloved  hand  rested  in  Mrs.  Marini's  just  long  enough  to 
assure  that  perplexed  soul  that  this  newcomer  was  slightly 
contemptuous.  But  she  did  not  resent  this.  As  the 
desultory  conversation  made  the  usual  round  of  Siletz 
gossip,  varied  now  and  then  by  a  remark  from  Miss 
Fletcher  indicative  of  her  small  interest  in  it,  she  grew 
watchful.  She  heard  Hal's  name  mentioned.  "  He  called 
yesterday  afternoon,"  Miss  Fletcher  said  carelessly.  "I 
think  he's  an  odd  chap  to  be  here  in  the  timber.  It's 
really  strange  to  see  a  well-educated  man  in  this 
wilderness." 

Sally  turned  the  conversation  coldly.  She  did  not  know 
that  Flossetta  Marini,  resenting  the  fact  that  her  son  had 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         209 

left  her  to  call  on  this  woman,  took  keen  delight  in  this 
praise  of  him,  knowing  that  her  efforts  had  not  been  in 
vain.  He  met  with  the  approval  of  the  "best  people" 
among  whom  she  classed  this  cool,  rather  supercilious 
school  teacher. 

Miss  Fletcher,  having  stayed  a  half-hour,  left,  leaving 
behind  her  an  atmosphere  of  faint  perfume  and  superi- 
ority. When  she  had  gone,  the  discussion  was  renewed 
as  to  whether  Hal  might  be  expected.  In  this  opinions 
varied.  Sally  thought  he  might;  Spencer  was  not  sure. 
"He's  pretty  busy,"  he  alleged.  "And  you  ought  to  see 
the  way  he  sticks  to  his  work!" 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Hal,  rising  at  eight  o'clock,  had  got 
his  breakfast  and  decided  to  go  over  to  the  McCarthy's. 
"It's  only  decent  to  show  Spencer  that  I  like  his  sister," 
he  thought.  "And  really  she's  not  so  bad  looking.  I'd 
like  to  ask  her  more  about  mother." 

On  the  way  he  met  Miss  Fletcher.  The  sight  of  this 
placid  young  woman,  well  gowned  and  apparently  indif- 
ferent to  her  surroundings,  pleased  him.  She  represented 
for  the  moment  all  that  he  considered  best  in  life;  besides, 
he  was,  as  has  been  said,  half  in  love  with  her  as  the  only 
available  person  —  a  great  factor  in  matrimony.  She 
consented  to  sit  down  on  a  log,  under  the  branches  of  a 
stray  alder,  and  he  seated  himself  beside  her. 

"I'm  just  back  from  a  visit  to  Miss  McCarthy,"  she 


210         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

said  quietly.  "Really,  Mr.  Spencer's  sister  is  just  what  I 
expected.  She's  a  middle-aged  woman  dressed  like  a 
debutante.    I  suppose  he  thinks  she's  stunning!" 

"She's  been  on  the  stage,"  he  said  in  excuse. 

Miss  Fletcher  raised  her  eyebrows.  "That  accounts 
for  it,  then.  I  never  met  any  stage  people  before,  but  I  've 
often  wondered  what  they  would  be  like.  That  makes  it 
quite  interesting." 

This  he  resented  bitterly.  But  he  did  not  know  how  to 
explain  that  his  own  mother  was  an  actress,  though  a 
famous  one,  and  so  said  nothing.  Miss  Fletcher,  whose 
interest  in  Sally  and  her  guest  was  transient,  turned 
the  conversation  into  other  channels.  After  chatting 
for  a  few  minutes,  she  said  she  must  go  on.  "I  thought 
I  'd  try  that  trail  you  told  me  of  the  other  day  —  yester- 
day. So  I  must  be  moving  on,  or  I'll  be  late  for 
luncheon." 

"You'd  better  let  me  show  you  the  way,"  he  volun- 
teered quickly. 

"No.  If  I  can't  find  it,  I'll  ask  you  to  show  me.  But 
I'd  rather  find  it  myself,  now." 

He  tried  to  insist,  but  she  refused  to  consider  it  and  left 
him  highly  indignant,  with  a  sense  of  having  been  rebuked 
for  presumption.  His  indignation  was  short-lived,  how- 
ever, for  he  soon  saw  that  it  was  only  another  exhibition 
of  her  inborn  refinement. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         211 

When  he  reached  the  McCarthy's,  Spencer  was  smoking 
on  the  bench  by  the  door.  To  his  query  as  to  "Miss 
Spencer's"  health,  his  employer  answered  him  that  she 
was  well.    "Go  in  and  ask  her  herself,"  he  suggested. 

Sally  received  him  with  unusual  coldness.  He  felt  this, 
but  decided  that  it  was  probably  due  to  Miss  Fletcher's 
recent  call.  "That  would  stir  Sally  up,"  he  thought,  con- 
scious that  the  school  teacher  took  little  pains  to  conceal 
her  contempt  for  the  natives  of  the  timber.  But  he  was 
more  puzzled  than  ever  when  Miss  Spencer  almost  refused 
to  speak  to  him.  He  sat  down  and  broached  several  topics 
of  conversation  with  the  same  result,  silence.  Presently 
he  rose  and  remarked,  querulously:  "I  guess  I'd  better 
be  going  back.  I  only  stopped  in  to  see  how  you  both 
•were." 

Sally,  suddenly  stricken  with  remorse,  shook  her  head. 
"You  can't  go  yet.  Miss  Spencer  here  is  aching  to  tell 
you  about  her  acquaintance  with  your  mother.  And  you 
have  n't  been  poHte  enough  to  ask  her  to  say  a  word 
about  it." 

He  was  inwardly  relieved  and  soothed.  He  glanced 
over  at  the  quiet,  shy-looking  woman  across  the  room  and 
smiled.  "I've  been  trying  to  talk  about  everything 
except  what  I  was  thinking  about,"  he  said  frankly. 

"You  must  have  seen  Miss  Fletcher  lately,"  Sally  re- 
marked sharply. 


212         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

He  ignored  this  and  turned  again  to  the  other  woman. 
"I'm  prouder  of  my  mother  than  you  have  any  idea  of/' 
he  said,  "and  I'd  Uke  to  know  all  about  her.  Have  you 
seen  her  lately?    How  is  she?" 

"She's  pretty  well,  I  guess,"  came  the  words  falteringly. 

"When  did  you  see  her  last?" 

"It  was  some  time  ago.  You  see  she  —  she  hasn't 
been  playing  for  so  long!" 

"Of  course.  You  know,  when  I  was  in  the  academy, 
she  used  to  send  me  programmes.  But  lately  she  has  n't 
sent  me  any,  or  any  notices  from  the  papers.  I  suppose 
she's  enjoying  herself  and  resting." 

"Miss  Spencer"  glanced  pleadingly  at  Sally,  and  that 
watchful  girl  took  him  up  scornfully. 

"You're  too  proud  to  live,  I  declare.  You  can't 
imagine  your  mother  doing  anything  but  sitting  round 
with  her  hands  folded  and  somebody  fanning  her." 

"  She  certainly  does  n't  work,  for  she  does  n't  have  to," 
he  said  offendedly. 

"And  you  look  down  on  us  that  have  to  work,"  Sally 
continued  sharply. 

Spencer  opened  the  door  at  this  moment  and  announced 
the  arrival  of  the  packer  from  the  Agency.  They  all 
went  to  the  door  and  Flossetta,  from  behind  Sally,  watched 
the  slow  progress  of  the  pack-horse  down  the  slippery 
trail  into  the  clearing.     The  packer,  his  animal  safely 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS        213 

grazing  on  the  crisp,  frozen  grass,  came  up  and  handed 
out  letters  to  each  one.  "Thought  maybe  you  fellows 
would  n't  be  over  for  a  spell  and  I  'd  bring  your  mail.  I 
was  goin'  in  to  Bailey's  and  might  just  as  well  come  on 
here." 

Sally  drew  him  aside  and  gave  him  a  large  order  for 
groceries.  "If  you  can  fetch  'em  in  to-morrow  it'll  help 
some,"  she  said. 

"Sure,"  the  packer  answered.  "I'd  do  more'n  that 
for  you.  Miss  McCarthy.    Got  comp'ny?" 

"Yes.  Spencer's  sister.  Now  you  be  sure  and  bring 
those  things,  or  I'll  have  to  get  some  of  the  boys  to 
make  the  trip  over  before  the  weather  breaks." 

"And  it's  goin'  to  break,"  he  returned.  "It'll  storm 
considerable  when  it  starts  in." 

Hal  had  taken  the  single  letter  that  was  his  and  he 
now  sought  out  Spencer  to  show  it  to  him.  Spencer 
read  the  oflficial  note  and  smiled  slightly.  "I  guess  Lim 
got  worried  and  he  wants  this  thing  fixed  up  right 
away." 

"Everybody  told  me  it  would  be  six  months  before  I 
got  a  chance  to  have  a  hearing,"  was  Hal's  comment. 
"  And  here  they  set  it  for  six  weeks  from  today.  I  wonder 
what's  up?" 

"Don't  worry  about  it,"  Spencer  responded.  "The 
sooner  the  better  for  you  and  me." 


214         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

But  the  news  that  the  trial  of  the  contest  was  fixed  for 
only  a  few  weeks  ahead  was  discussed  after  the  packer 
left,  and  Hal,  without  concealing  his  suspicions,  averred 
hotly  that  he  had  been  "done."  He  asserted  that  that 
meant  that  White  would  already  have  offered  final  proof 
the  day  before,  and  that  this  hurrying  forward  of  the  con- 
test must  simply  be  to  clear  his  title  so  that  he  could  sell 
and  get  his  money.  Spencer  accepted  this  view  as  prob- 
able but  sniffed  at  Hal's  fears.  "It'll  be  all  over  but  the 
shoutin'  when  it  comes  off,"  he  aflBrmed,  and  would  say 
no  more. 

To  all  this  Flossetta  listened  intently,  now  and  then 
straining  her  tired  face  into  an  expression  of  negligent 
placidity  when  she  thought  Hal  glanced  her  way.  When 
Spencer  finally  said  it  was  time  to  be  going,  and  Hal  got 
his  cap,  she  re-entered  the  house  with  a  weary  step.  It 
seemed  as  though  all  her  wild  hopes  were  dashed  to  the 
ground;  her  son  grew  farther  and  farther  away  every 
hour.  She  began  to  feel  poignantly  that  her  mistake  had 
been  one  extending  over  many  years,  that  her  deception 
had  endured  too  long  ever  to  be  overthrown.  And  Spencer, 
seeking  her  out,  hardly  recognized  the  woman  he  wor- 
shiped distantly. 

"Look  here,  cheer  up!"  he  urged.  "You  and  Sally 
are  comin'  over  to-morrow  to  our  place.  I  gotta  do  a 
heap  of  things  the  next  few  days  and  IVe  gotta  be  at 


THE  LAND   CLAIM ERS         215 

them.  But  you  come  over  and  you  —  you  cheer  up  I" 
He  could  think  of  nothing  more  definite  to  say,  for  his 
plans  were  now  fixed,  and  the  objects  he  had  to  attain 
were  ever  present  before  his  eyes.  From  now  on  he 
must  give  all  his  time  —  every  minute  of  it  —  to  assur- 
ing Hal  his  claim.  Of  all  the  desires  of  his  heart  this 
alone  remained  in  the  realm  of  possibility.  But  he 
would  accomplish  that. 

After  they  were  gone,  Sally  prepared  a  dinner  which 
neither  she  nor  her  guest  enjoyed.  Both  were  absorbed 
in  their  own  thoughts.  And  after  the  dishes  were  washed, 
Sally  excused  herself  and  departed  into  the  timber,  leav- 
ing Flossetta  to  dream  and  cry  by  herself. 

An  hour  later  Sally  slipped  down  a  slender  log  that 
slanted  from  the  foot  of  a  hill  across  a  small,  sandy- 
floored  basin,  into  which  a  spring  discharged  its  clear 
waters,  traversed  a  weedy  garden  patch  and  unlocked 
the  door  of  a  very  diminutive  cabin.  She  left  the  door 
open  behind  her  and  emerged  promptly  with  a  broom, 
which  she  employed  to  sweep  some  blown  leaves  and 
fir  needles  from  the  little  porch.  Shortly  afterward  a 
thin  spiral  of  smoke  from  the  stove-pipe  gave  notice  that 
a  fire  had  been  started.  While  it  was  crackling  in  the 
sheet-iron  "camper's  treasure,"  she  took  her  place  in 
the  doorway  and  surveyed  the  garden  with  calculating 
eyes.    "I'll  plant  spuds  this  year,  I  guess,"  she  thought. 


216         THE  LAND  CLAIM ERS 

"That  and  some  cabbages.  I  wonder  how  those  sweet 
peas  are  growing." 

It  is  necessary  to  explain  that  this  cabin  and  this 
garden  represented  a  part  of  Sally's  life  that  no  one 
knew  about  and  which  she  carefully  kept  concealed 
from  every  one.  In  order  to  make  plain  how  it  was  that 
she  possessed  a  house  and  garden  whose  very  existence 
was  unknown  even  to  her  father,  it  must  be  stated  that 
she  had  come  into  it,  as  one  says  of  property,  by  an  acci- 
dent, and  that  this  accident  was  the  result  of  an  uneasy 
sense  on  the  part  of  a  homesteader  that  he  had  not  lived 
up  to  the  spirit  of  the  law  under  which  the  Government 
grants  one  hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  land  to  the 
pioneer. 

If  there  is  one  word  that  applies  to  the  attitude  of  the 
Government  in  all  its  dealings  with  the  homesteader,  it 
is  one  that  denotes  suspicion.  No  matter  how  upright 
a  man's  life,  how  plain  and  righteous  his  motives,  how 
kind  his  heart,  how  honest  his  ways,  it  is  only  needful 
for  him  to  apply  for  Government  land  to  throw  sus- 
picion not  only  on  his  blameless  past,  but  on  his  indus- 
trious present  and  every  act  that  he  may  perform  in  the 
future.  True,  a  beneficent  and  paternal  republic  has 
suffered  much  at  the  hands  of  men  ostensibly  patriotic 
but  really  actuated  by  an  intense  desire  for  valuable 
land.    It  is  also  true  that  the  complaisance  of  ignorant 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         217 

executives  and  lax  administrators  allowed,  for  many 
years,  what  is  now  termed  a  "plundering"  of  vast  tracts 
of  timbered  and  arable  lands.  And  the  logical  event  of 
this  was  that  every  man  who  took  a  homestead  in  the 
dark  and  gloomy  forest  of  the  Siletz  was  instantly  con- 
sidered by  the  officials  as  purposing  a  raid  on  the  treas- 
ury, which  raid  was  to  be  stopped  at  every  effort  and 
expense  for  proof  and  prevention  of  crime.  Who  would 
bury  himself  in  that  forbidding  wilderness  for  a  paltry 
hundred  and  sixty  acres?  the  Government  demanded 
acidly.  No  one,  except  a  man  who  hopes  to  steal  the 
timber  under  the  law,  sell  it  to  a  big  corporation  and 
leave  the  denuded  land  to  the  skunks  and  wood-rats,  ran 
the  answer. 

Thus,  for  many  years,  the  Siletz  lay  not  only  under 
nature's  ban  of  chill  and  gloom  and  solitude,  but  under 
a  governmental  one  of  suspicion,  incessant  inspection, 
oversight,  detection  and  incrimination.  The  easy  law 
that  allows  a  man  to  claim  a  quarter  section  of  land 
after  living  a  few  months  on  it,  and  get  title  on  payment 
of  a  few  dollars,  tempted  not  only  the  honest  and  indus- 
trious pioneer,  but  the  sluggard,  the  cheat  and  the  morally 
loose.  How  easy  to  file  on  land  overgrown  with  ten 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  timber,  build  a  rude  cabin  on 
it,  clear  a  few  rods  of  land,  live  on  it  a  season  and  then 
get  title  for  a  couple  of  hundred  dollars,  dispose  of  the 


218         THELANDCLAIMERS 

patent  to  a  lumber  company  for  a  few  thousands  and 
leave  the  Siletz  for  ever. 

But  as  years  went  on,  the  regulations  of  the  Govern- 
ment grew  stricter  in  the  letter,  if  laxer  in  spirit.  The 
jealous  scrutiny  of  men  eager  to  get  land  made  the  pos- 
sessors live  in  real  truth  in  their  little  cabins  or  else  be 
contested  and  ousted.  The  department  at  Washington 
grew  wary  of  granting  patents  until  after  long  periods  of 
investigation  had  elapsed.  And  the  homesteader,  prob- 
ably honest  in  intention,  found  himself  suddenly  forced 
into  dishonesty  and  subterfuge.  No  man  could  make  a 
living  in  the  heart  of  the  forest.  The  most  hardworking 
pioneer  found  that  to  keep  his  land  and  support  his 
family  at  the  same  time  he  must  go  elsewhere  a  portion 
of  the  year  and  earn  money  wherewith  to  buy  flour  and 
bacon,  or  else  he  must  deceive  the  Government. 

Consequently,  as  the  Siletz  reservation  was  gradually 
settled,  as  the  trails  were  built  and  the  little  clearings 
made  and  the  small  cabins  erected,  there  grew  up  a 
custom  of  leaving  these  temporary  homes  with  the  beds 
made  and  the  tables  set,  though  the  owner's  absence  was 
to  be  permanent.  In  this  way  the  Government  inspector 
was  supposed  to  be  deceived  into  believing  that  the  occu- 
pants (who  were  supposed  by  law  to  be  still  resident) 
had  merely  left  for  the  day,  or  on  a  week's  visit  to  New- 
port or  Toledo.     As  homesteaders  proved  up  and  left. 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         219 

the  forest  became  dotted  —  could  one  have  enjoyed  a 
bird's-eye  view  —  with  cabins  apparently  still  inhabited 
and  gardens  still  cultivated,  though  the  owners  had  long 
been  gone,  never  to  return. 

The  cabin  into  which  Sally  had  let  herself  was  one  of 
these.  Years  before  the  homesteader  had  packed  out  his 
few  valuables,  leaving  everything  else,  even  to  the  clock 
on  the  rough  shelf  and  the  griddle  on  the  nail.  Within 
a  week  after  he  had  gone,  the  brush  crept  over  the  narrow 
trail,  and  filled  up  the  spring,  and  skunks  chattered 
under  the  table.  A  few  months,  and  the  former  home- 
steader had  been  forgotten  in  the  Siletz;  none  knew 
whither  that  trail  went  after  its  turning  off  from  the 
main  one,  and  the  sole  knowledge  of  the  place  rested  in 
the  records  of  the  Land  Office  and  with  Sally  McCarthy. 
She  had  found  the  trail  one  day,  followed  it,  and  arrived 
in  the  little  clearing.  Knowing  all  the  gossip  of  the 
reservation,  she  knew  that  besides  herself  no  one  thought 
longer  of  this  lonely  cabin.  So  she  entered  it,  brushed 
the  rust  from  the  stove,  washed  up  the  dishes  and  took 
possession  of  it.  Never  having  had  dolls,  this  became 
her  welcome,  if  long-delayed  toy.  To  it  she  fled  when 
old  McCarthy  grew  sullen,  and  when  the  squalor  of  his 
cabin  disgusted  her.  Lonely  by  habit  and  repressed  in 
spirit,  here  she  gave  her  imagination  free  rein  and  lived 
pleasant  hours  in   this   retreat,   furbishing   the  house, 


220         THELANDCLAIMERS 

digging  in  the  garden,  cleaning  out  the  spring,  and  pre- 
tending that  it  was  her  home. 

The  afternoon  when  she  had  rescued  Hal  from  the 
waters  of  the  big  pool  she  had  been  here  and  was  on  her 
way  to  her  father's  cabin.  It  was  Sally  that  Hal  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  from  the  shoulder  of  the  hill  through 
the  vista  that  had  opened,  only  to  be  lost.  Today  she 
entered  the  little  cabin  with  a  feeling  of  relief.  The 
events  of  the  past  week  had  worried  her.  She  had  grown 
to  hold  Spencer  in  warm,  girhsh  affection.  His  helpless- 
ness had  first  appealed  to  her.  Then  she  had  appreciated 
his  pluck  and  doglike  tenacity  of  purpose.  When  Flos- 
setta  had  first  been  mentioned,  her  resentment  had  been 
hot.  But  gradually  she  had  come  to  a  consciousness  of 
Spencer's  quiet  regard  for  herself.  Towards  Hal  she 
had  borne  equal  resentment,  but  his  youth  and  ambition 
were  slowly  gaining  on  her,  and  she  liked  him  better  and 
better.  Now  all  her  reserves  had  been  swept  away  by 
the  view  of  Flossetta's  misery  and  self-sacrifice.  Woman- 
like, she  appraised  this  at  its  full  value,  and  it  gave  value 
to  all  for  whom  it  had  been  undergone.  Now  she  must 
think  and  plan.  It  made  it  no  easier  that  she,  too,  must 
travel  the  road  of  self-denial.  For  when  Hal  knew  that 
"Miss  Spencer"  was  his  mother,  and  that  Sally  had 
been  a  party  to  a  plot  to  bring  him  to  a  realization  of 
his  duty,  he  would  hate  Sally,  even  though  he  reluctantly 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         221 

took  up  the  oflfices  of  a  dutiful  son.  And  Spencer,  the 
only  one  who  regarded  her  warmly,  was  in  love  with 
Flossetta.  If  all  went  well  she,  youngest  and  most  starved 
for  life  of  them  all,  would  be  left  alone. 

It  was  no  shame  to  her  that  in  this  unselfish  planning 
she  reserved  for  herself  one  little  thing:  Hal  had  bitterly 
injured  her  by  his  ill-concealed  contempt  for  her  breed- 
ing and  by  his  careless  remarks  about  the  motives  of  all 
who  lived  in  the  Siletz.  So  long  as  she  lived  she  would 
never  forget  this.  She  had  been  lonely,  rebellious  and 
wretched.  But  she  had  never  before  been  told  she  was 
inferior  to  other  women  in  manners  and  knowledge.  So, 
when  Flossetta  Marini  was  revealed  to  her  son,  his  shame 
and  mortification  would  avenge  Sally.  The  thought 
grew  bitter,  instead  of  sweet.  But  even  when  she  had 
become  convinced  by  long  meditation  that  she  did  not 
desire  such  a  revenge,  her  maidenly  spirit  demanded  it  as 
a  right. 

How  should  she  bring  about  this  disclosure?  She 
shrank  from  merely  telling  Hal  the  truth.  It  must  be 
borne  in  upon  him  by  facts.  She  turned  over  a  dozen 
plans,  rejecting  them  all  as  too  cruel  or  unlikely  to  be 
effective.  He  would  naturally  believe  nothing  except 
absolute,  overwhelming  proof.  No  help  could  be  ex- 
pected from  his  mother  —  more  likely  denial,  recrimina- 
tion and  tender  falsehoods.    Spencer  would  do  nothing 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

actively,  however  much  he  might  wish  to  make  Flossetta 
happy. 

She  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  home-made  chair,  staring 
out  the  door,  and  thought  it  over  and  over.  Finally  she 
rose,  glanced  round  the  pleasant,  bare  room  to  see  if 
everything  was  in  its  place,  and  went  out,  locking  the 
door  after  her.  She  had  the  foundation  of  her  plan. 
She  must  see  Flossetta  and  find  out  whether  she  had 
the  one  thing  lacking  to  make  it  complete. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  week  passed  slowly  for  all  of  them.  The  ex- 
pected break  in  the  weather  did  not  come.  The 
wind  drew  into  the  northeast,  and  continued  frost  crusted 
the  trails  deeper  each  night  and  made  travel  almost  im- 
possible. Every  evening  the  stars  burned  in  a  sky  of 
steel,  and  the  motionless  timber  seemed  to  give  off  a 
noiseless  breath  of  rime  and  mortal  cold.  ^  Spencer, 
coughing  furiously,  appeared  to  shrivel  day  by  day  and 
kept  the  fire.  Once  in  a  while  he  was  impelled  by  rest- 
lessness to  venture  out  to  look  at  the  stainless  heavens 
and  curse.  Hal  stamped  round,  smoked  inordinately 
and  growled  about  the  prospects  of  winning  the  contest. 
Sally  and  her  guest  were  not  to  be  seen.  They  had  not 
come  over  to  Spencer's  as  they  had  promised  to  do,  and 
Hal  had  learned  from  a  short  visit  that  "Miss  Spencer" 
was  not  well.  Sally  asserted  that  when  she  felt  better 
they  would  come,  and  invited  Hal  to  tell  Spencer  that 
they  were  both  welcome  at  the  McCarthy's.  With  this, 
communication  had  ceased  for  several  days. 

During  this  time  Sally  had  not  been  idle.    Her  quick 
eyes  had  soon  seen  that  her  guest  was  very  ill.    Excite- 


224         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

ment  and  vain  hope  had  been  the  stimulus  which  had 
given  Flossetta  illusory  strength.  The  cruel  fact  that 
her  son  could  never  realize  who  she  was  and  that  she 
must  keep  her  secret  till  she  died  had  had  its  effect.  An- 
other cause  of  her  swift  decline  in  health  was  undoubtedly 
the  silent  and  cold  atmosphere  of  the  great  forest,  at  once 
strange  and  dreadful  to  one  accustomed  to  light  and 
movement  and  the  crowd. 

No  one  but  Sally  could  know  the  horror  the  dead  days 
had  for  the  feeble  actress.  And  every  night  she  sat  by 
the  fire  to  listen  hour  after  hour  to  the  poor  woman's 
labored  breathing.  The  days  and  nights  passed  like  a 
terrible  dream  to  Flossetta;  for  Sally  they  were  real, 
tangible,  her  first  knowledge  of  what  life  meant  in  the 
world  outside.  As  she  bent  over  the  murmuring  woman 
at  midnight  and  tried  to  soothe  her,  she  saw  clearly  the 
long  series  of  events  that  had  led  to  this;  and  when  she 
glanced  across  the  dusky  cabin  at  midday  and  saw  the 
wasted  hands  fumbling  and  picking  and  reaching  as  if  to 
find  and  seize  sunshine  that  never  penetrated  below  the 
lofty  crest  of  the  timber,  she  knew  in  her  own  heart  that 
such  periods  came  into  every  woman's  life,  and  that  her 
mother,  as  well  as  Flossetta  Marini,  as  well  as  all  other 
,  women,  had  suffered  thus  —  that  she  was  some  time  to 
endure  and  cry  and  suffer  this  way  herself. 

Her  thoughts  found   utterance   one  afternoon   when 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         225 

she  said  abruptly,  "  Why  did  n't  you  marry  Mr.  Spencer, 
MissFlossetta?" 

A  brief  gleam  of  contentment  flashed  across  the  elder 
woman's  face.  "He  was  crazy  over  me,"  she  replied. 
"But  I  was  crazy  over  Harry  and  I  married  him.  Poor 
Sim!" 

Sally  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  Then  she  said 
again,  "I  believe  he's  still  in  love  with  you!" 

Flosetta  stared  out  the  window.  A  tremulous  sigh 
escaped  from  her  lips,  and  when  Sally  glanced  over  she 
saw  that  she  was  crying  softly. 

"I  suppose  he  is,"  Flossetta  responded  gently.  "He 
would  n't  have  done  as  much  for  me  if  he  had  n't  been. 
But  I  could  n't  marry  him  now,  because  Hal  —  Hal 
does  n't  approve  of  him  any  more  than  he  would  of  me 
now." 

An  unmistakable  sniff  was  the  sole  answer  to  this. 
But  presently  Sally  remarked:  "It  strikes  me  that  I 
would  n't  give  up  all  my  happiness,  if  I  were  you.  And 
if  you  don't  tell  Hal  who  you  are,  I  don't  see  why  you 
should  n't  marry  Mr.  Spencer.  He'd  be  awfully  good  to 
you." 

Flossetta  was  stirred  into  animation.  "  What  an  idea ! " 
she  exclaimed.  "I've  fooled  Hal  as  much  as  I'm  going 
to.  And  I  'm  not  going  to  sacrifice  him  any  more.  Even 
if  he  did  n't  know  I  was  his  mother,  it  would  n't  be  right. 


226         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

And  I  want  Hal  to  be  happy.  He's  got  a  good  education 
and  fine  manners,  just  like  his  father.  I  would  n't  put  a 
thing  in  his  way." 

"I  don't  see  what  more  you  could  do,"  Sally  insisted. 

Flossetta  smiled  wearily.  "  Oh,  there 's  one  more  thing," 
she  whispered  and  closed  her  eyes.  A  shudder  ran  through 
her. 

Another  time  Sally  asked  whether  she  had  n't  a  picture 
of  herself  taken  when  she  was  acting.  Flossetta  went  to 
her  suit-case  and  silently  fetched  one.  It  was  apparently 
taken  but  a  short  time  before  and  displayed  Miss  Marini 
in  the  character  of  "Juanita,  the  Mexican  Diva,"  the 
national  part  of  this  title  being  emphasized  by  a  very 
gorgeous  broad  hat  and  an  immense  blanket  of  gauze. 
Beneath  the  mysteries  of  paint  and  powder  were  to  be 
discerned  the  weak  and  aging  features  of  a  once  pretty 
woman. 

"I  had  that  taken  just  before  I  started  out  this  last 
time,"  Flossetta  explained.  "  I  did  n't  want  it,  but  of 
course  one  has  to  have  'em  for  the  bills  and  the  papers. 
I  saved  that  one  for  some  reason  or  other.  I  guess  we'd 
better  burn  it.    It  looks  —  it  looks  too  much  like  me." 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Sally  lied,  bluntly  and 
without  shame.  "Nobody  on  earth  would  know  it  was 
you.  You  look  no  more  than  twenty  and  as  fresh  as  a 
berry.    Let  me  have  it,  please.    I'd  so  like  to  have  it." 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         227 

"All  right,"  was  the  answer.  "But  keep  it  away  from 
Hal.  I  might  have  trouble  in  explaining  to  him  how  I  got 
it  and  what  character  his  mother  was  playing." 

Sally  made  no  reply,  but  thrust  the  photograph  into  a 
little  bag  that  hung  by  her  bedside.  When  her  guest  was 
not  looking,  she  took  it  out  again  and  went  up  the  trail, 
avowedly  to  look  for  "gum  wood  for  kindling."  Once 
hidden  from  any  one  in  the  cabin,  she  put  the  picture 
against  the  rough  bark  of  a  little  spruce  and  sat  down 
before  it  to  study  it. 

She  seemed  satisfied  at  last,  took  the  picture  down  and 
went  on  her  way  to  her  secluded  cabin  in  the  hidden  clear- 
ing. She  stayed  here  just  long  enough  to  pin  the  photo- 
graph to  the  wall  and  get  a  belated  and  yellowed  head  of 
cabbage  from  the  garden.  On  her  return  she  raUied  "Miss 
Spencer"  and  succeeded  in  cheering  that  poor  lady  into 
a  state  of  smiles  and  gossip  about  the  joyous  past. 

Early  the  next  morning,  the  sixth  day  since  there  had 
been  any  word  from  Spencer  or  Hal,  she  told  Flossetta 
that  she  was  going  to  see  them. 

"rU  bet  theyVe  been  busy  over  HaFs  claim,"  she 
said  in  excuse.  "And  they  can't  cook  worth  a  cent.  I 
often  go  over  and  cook  up  some  bread  and  stuff  for 
them,  and  I'll  do  it  this  morning  and  tell  them  we're 
mad  at  them  for  not  being  neighborly." 

She  found  Hal  in  the  clearing,  gloomily  digging  at  a 


228         THELANDCLAIMERS 

huge  root.  He  brightened  up  when  he  saw  her  and  said 
that  Spencer  was  in  the  house.  "This  cold  weather 
knocks  him  up,"  he  announced. 

"And  I  suppose  you  think  we  can  get  in  all  the  wood 
we  need  ourselves,"  Sally  repUed,  with  asperity.  "You're 
so  busy  keeping  warm  yourselves  that  you  think  we  don't 
need  anybody  to  help  us."  She  passed  on,  leaving  him 
red  and  strangely  angry  at  himself  and  her. 

Spencer  received  her  cheerfully,  though  his  pale  and 
gaunt  face  showed  that  he  had  been  miserable. 

"How's  everybody?"  he  demanded. 

"Mad,"  was  the  curt  reply. 

"Well,  that's  bad,"  he  said,  repressing  a  cough.  "I've 
been  thinkin'." 

"So'vewe." 

"  'Nd  I  ain't  got  anywhere  yet,"  he  continued,  anxious 
to  put  himself  right.  "  I  wanted  to  be  all  loaded  for  bear 
when  I  saw  you  again.  'Nd  I  just  set  here  and  thought 
and  did  n't  get  anywhere." 

She  brushed  this  aside  and  rolled  up  her  sleeves.  "If 
you'd  have  cooked  more  and  thought  less  you'd  be  better 
off.  Now  you  shut  up  and  think  some  more,  if  it  does  you 
good."    She  dived  into  the  flour  sack. 

Spencer  watched  her  for  a  long  time  in  silence.  She 
gave  no  sign  that  she  observed  his  scrutiny,  but  went 
about  mixing  and  stirring  and  sifting  and  beating  and 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

baking  as  though  she  were  alone.  Finally  he  ventured 
to  remark,  "It'll  bust  Hal  all  up,  if  he  finds  it  out." 

"Huh!" 

"  I  Ve  been  on  the  point  of  tellin'  him  a  dozen  times  and 
havin'  it  over.  But  he's  proud,  just  like  his  father,  and 
he  would  n't  understand."  He  paused  and  coughed.  "I 
thought  I'd  tell  him  when  this  claim  business  is  settled." 

Sally  glanced  over  curiously.  "I'd  like  to  know  how 
you  expect  to  get  that  claim  from  Lim.  I  thought  you 
and  Hal  had  some  good  scheme.  But  you  seem  to  think 
the  law '11  give  you  everything  you  want.  Why,  Lim's 
thick  and  thick  with  those  people  up  in  Portland.  You 
don't  stand  any  show  at  all." 

"  I  guess  Lim  White  '11  be  glad  to  hand  it  over,"  Spencer 
retorted,  in  so  sharp  a  tone  that  Sally  stared. 

"But  if  he  don't?"  she  ventured. 

Spencer's  face  settled  into  cruel  lines.  His  jaw  seemed 
to  harden,  and  his  eyes  to  sink  back  into  his  head.  She 
had  never  seen  such  an  expression  on  his  face,  and  it 
frightened  her.  Spencer  stared  at  her  a  moment  and  then 
his  features  relaxed. 

"Don't  you  worry,  Sally,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "I  ain't 
no  quitter." 

"My  sakes!"  she  ejaculated.  "Did  I  say  you  were? 
You  looked  as  though  you  were  going  to  bite  my  head 
off." 


230         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

He  got  to  his  feet  and  walked  to  the  door.  "I  ain't 
worryin'  over  Lim,"  he  remarked.  "It's  Flossetta  Fm 
thinkin'  about." 

Sally  shoved  the  last  pan  of  biscuits  into  the  little  oven 
and  shut  the  door.  "I  tell  ye  what  I'll  do,"  she  said  un- 
emotionally. "You  tend  to  Lim  and  I'll  tend  to  Mrs. 
Marini.  I  guess  you  got  your  hands  full  already.  Leave 
me  to  fix  the  rest." 

A  sudden  hope  beamed  in  Spencer's  face.  "Say,"  he 
said  bluntly.     "Was  I  wrong?" 

"Wrong  about  what?" 

"About  Miss  Fletcher?  " 

In  spite  of  herself,  Sally  felt  the  hot  blushes  flooding 
her  cheeks.  But  she  faced  him.  "What  about  Miss 
Fletcher?  "  she  demanded. 

"Well,  I  got  it  into  my  noddle  that  Hal  was  stuck  on 
her.  She 's  sort  of  ladyish  and  proper  and  —  and  spoony. 
She  just  took  after  him  like  a  rabbit  after  a  cabbage  leaf 
as  soon  as  she  saw  him.  'Nd  I  heard  him  say  several 
things  'bout  her  that  made  me  mad.  But  if  you're 
runnin'  it,  why  —  " 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  Miss  Fletcher,"  Sally 
answered  coldly.  "And  if  she  wants  him  I'm  sure  I 
don't." 

Spencer  seemed  appalled.  "Look  here,  I  did  n't  say 
she  —  he  wanted  her.    I  just  thought  —  " 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         231 

"You  think  too  much,"  was  the  tart  answer.  "Sup- 
pose you  spend  next  week  choppin'  wood  instead  of 
thinkin*,  and  you'll  be  nearer  home/* 

"But  Hal  —  *' 

"But  Hal's  too  good  for  me  and  too  good  for  his 
mother  and  too  good  for  you,"  she  stormed.  "I'm 
sick  of  him!"  She  snatched  up  her  cap  and  turned  to 
confront  Hal,  standing  in  the  doorway.  His  face  was 
white.  With  sudden  dignity  she  walked  past  him  into 
the  clearing  and  down  the  trail. 

"She  seems  "  —  Hal  began  awkwardly. 

All  the  older  man's  pent-up  misery  and  anger  and 
perplexity  broke  out.  He  cursed  the  younger  man  with 
a  violence  and  intensity  that  first  amazed,  then  enraged 
and  finally  appalled  its  victim.  Finding  it  useless  to  stem 
the  torrent,  he  walked  out  of  the  door  with  as  much  grace 
as  he  could,  looking  over  his  shoulder  to  say  in  a  trembling 
voice,  "You  need  n't  expect  me  back." 

Spencer  shook  his  fist  at  him. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  Hal  Marini  felt  thoroughly 
and  satisfactorily  abused.  There  was  no  question  of  his 
own  conduct  in  the  matter.  He  had  done  more  than  could 
be  expected  of  him,  more  for  a  vulgar  old  man  than  any 
amount  of  money  could  repay.  Sally,  attractive  in  many 
ways,  was,  after  all,  ignorant  and  hardly  the  lady.  In  the 
whole  Siletz  forest  there  was  but  one  member  of  his  own 


I 


232         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

class  in  society.  Spencer's  curses  stung,  unjust  as  they 
were.  Deeper  yet  was  the  hurt  inflicted  by  those  words 
of  Sally's  he  had  overheard.  He  could,  of  course,  never 
return  to  Spencer's  cabin.  To  go  to  the  McCarthy's  was 
still  more  impossible.  But  there  was  one  refuge,  he 
thought,  and  he  would  go  to  Miss  Fletcher.  She  would 
understand  without  his  telling  her  all  the  impossibilities 
of  these  people.  Further,  she  might  advise  him  as  to 
what  he  had  better  do.  Anyway,  her  sympathy  would  be 
very  grateful  to  his  wounded  spirit. 

He  found  Miss  Fletcher  occupied  in  her  garden  in  all 
the  propriety  of  gloves  and  a  veil.  She  welcomed  him  and 
informed  him  immediately  that  her  companion  being 
away  again  it  was  impossible  (she  blushed)  to  ask  him 
into  the  house.  But  as  luncheon  was  over  and  the  after- 
noon gave  some  promise  of  being  less  cold  than  usual, 
why  not  walk?  He  was  happy  to  do  so,  though  luncheon- 
less.  But  he  resented  a  little  the  absence  of  the  companion 
and  the  fact  that  he  was  presupposed  to  have  had  his 
midday  meal.  It  was  eminently  proper;  but  he  was 
hungry. 

'■  When  it  came  to  deciding  on  the  object  of  their  walk, 
Miss  Fletcher  was  for  visiting  the  McCarthy's  "  and  that 
bewitching  *Miss  Spencer,'  who  is  really  such  a  character 
as  one  reads  about."  Hal  declined  this  and  thought  that 
a  little  exploring  would  do  no  harm. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         233 

"There  are  lots  of  old  trails  round  here  that  go  to 
houses  and  such,"  he  suggested. 

Walking  on  the  frosted  moss  and  iced  puddles  proved 
rather  tiresome,  and  it  was  Miss  Fletcher  who  remarked 
that  she  thought  it  would  be  much  better  to  find  some 
place  to  rest  a  while.  Hal  was  ready  himself,  but  at  this 
moment  he  saw  a  vague  trail  running  off  round  the  staff 
of  a  tall  spruce. 

"I  say,  there's  a  path  here,*'  he  announced.  "And 
it  looks  as  though  somebody  had  been  on  it  not  long 
ago." 

Miss  Fletcher  inspected  it  with  languid  interest  and 
decided  after  some  debate  that  it  might  be  well  to  see 
where  it  went.  Clasping  Hal's  hand  against  a  slip  on  the 
roots,  she  ventured  round  the  big  spruce  and  down  the 
trail. 

It  proved  to  be  disappointing  in  the  highest  degree. 
It  was  very  vague  at  best,  and  it  dipped  under  huge  wind- 
falls and  over  equally  huge  mounds  that  had  been  tree- 
trunks  but  had  rotted  away;  down  beneath  dark  bushes, 
where  it  lost  itself  apparently  beyond  recovery,  only  to 
reappear  crossing  a  little  gulch  on  another  tree-trunk,  or 
skirting  an  immense  stump  by  means  of  sundry  steps  cut 
with  an  ax  in  the  knobby  roots.  Within  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  they  had  no  notion  how  far  they  had  come  or  how 
to  get  out.    But  the  trail  was  growing  plainer,  and  they 


234         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

kept  on.  Very  soon  it  was  not  only  plain  but  broad,  and 
a  moment  later  it  delivered  them  into  a  very  small  clear- 
ing, in  the  middle  of  which  stood  a  very  small  log  cabin, 
with  a  miniatm*e  garden  beside  it.  From  the  stove-pipe 
in  the  roof  a  whiff  of  smoke  appeared,  and  Hal  stated  that 
the  house  was  inhabited. 

"Who  in  the  world  lives  here?"  Miss  Fletcher  de- 
manded.   "I  never  heard  of  anybody  near  here." 

"Nor  I,"  Hal  responded,  "except  once.  I  was  going 
along  the  main  trail  and  caught  sight  of  some  house  down 
in  the  canyon.    This  must  be  the  one." 

"Well,"  Miss  Fletcher  said,  "let's  go  and  see  who  it  is. 
If  people  live  here,  they  have  some  better  way  of  getting 
in  and  out  than  that  horrid  trail.  I  suppose  they'll  be 
civil?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  assured  her.  "The  settlers  aren't  so 
bad  as  you  think." 

They  walked  up  the  path,  past  the  sandy  spring,  and 
stamped  upon  the  infinitesimal  porch.  Hal  knocked 
briskly  on  the  door.    It  was  opened  by  Sally  McCarthy. 

An  awkward  silence  followed  her  cool  "  Come  in."  Miss 
Fletcher  seemed  oddly  put  out,  and  Hal  struggled  to 
think  of  some  excuse  to  refuse.  But  as  Sally  repeated  her 
invitation  and  Miss  Fletcher  could  not  frame  a  sentence 
of  anything  but  murmurs,  they  quickly  found  themselves 
ushered  into  the  small,  cheerful  room  and  provided  with 


THE    LAND  CLAIMERS        235 

seats.  Then  their  hostess  quietly  seated  herself  opposite 
and  politely  waited  for  them  to  speak. 

"We  were  just  walking  around,"  Miss  Fletcher  said, 
recovering  herself.  "We  did  n't  know  there  was  anybody 
here." 

"Tm  sorry  you  were  disappointed,"  was  the  reply. 
"Most  of  the  cabins  are  without  anybody  living  in 
them." 

Miss  Fletcher  suddenly  flushed  and  clasped  her  gloved 
hands  in  her  lap.  "  It  was  n't  till  Mr.  Marini  saw  the 
smoke  coming  out  from  the  chimney  that  we  ventiu-ed  to 
come  as  far  as  the  door,"  she  said  conventionally.  "But 
when  he  said  somebody  lived  here,  I  thought  we  might 
find  out  how  to  get  back  home." 

"Yes,  we're  lost,"  Hal  put  in.  "Found  a  trail  up  on 
the  hill  and  thought  we'd  see  where  it  went." 

Sally  nodded.  "You'll  find  plenty  of  cabins  all  around. 
But  you  ought  to  be  careful.  If  I  had  n't  been  here  and 
you  are  lost,  you  would  have  had  to  stay  here  till  some- 
body came,  and  that  might  have  taken  weeks!" 

This  seemed  too  much  for  Miss  Fletcher,  who  miu*- 
mured  something  about  "Impossible,"  and  refused  to  even 
glance  at  her  escort,  giving  the  plain  impression  that  she 
had  been  misled  into  walking  without  her  companion 
and  devoutly  wished  that  that  excellent  chaperone  were 
present.    Sally  observed  this,  but  she  was  bitterly  hurt, 


236         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

and  her  cold,  calm  gaze  rested  on  her  guest  with  an 
ingenuous  look  of  inquiry  that  made  Miss  Fletcher 
more  miserable  than  ever.  Then  she  turned  to  Hal, 
and  he  muttered  something  about  "didn't  know  you 
lived  here." 

"Very  few  do,"  Sally  responded  quietly.  "But  what 
do  you  think  of  it?" 

Miss  Fletcher  rose  from  her  seat  and  walked  round  the 
room,  intently  viewing  the  few  pictures  on  the  wall,  with 
an  air  of  having  to  do  the  polite  thing.  She  even  exclaimed 
prettily  over  a  shelf  made  of  a  huge  conch  fungus.  Then 
she  looked  over  the  meagre  furniture,  the  apparent  prepa- 
rations for  supper  and  all  the  things  that  seemed  to  speak 
of  constant  occupancy  and  life.  She  gave  every  evidence 
of  having  something  to  say,  but  not  being  ready  to  say  it. 
Hal,  tipping  his  chair  back  on  two  legs,  tried  to  assume 
an  air  of  enjoyment. 

Sally  turned  to  him  and  inquired  whether  he  had  taken 
the  north  trail  or  the  south  trail  in. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  he  said  wretchedly.  "I  just 
saw  a  trail  and  thought  we'd  see  where  it  went.  I  had 
no  idea  —  no  notion  —  " 

"Will  your  husband  be  back  to-night?"  said  Miss 
Fletcher,  gazing  with  great  earnestness  at  a  drawing 
clipped  from  a  magazine. 

"No,"  was  the  brief  answer. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         237 

Miss  Fletcher  was  more  at  her  ease  now  that  she  had 
got  into  words  what  she  had  intended  to  say  all  along. 
"  I  did  n't  know  you  were  married,  Mrs.  —  Mrs.  —  " 

"I'm  not,"  Sally  answered,  with  blazing  cheeks. 

"Oh!"  Miss  Fletcher  murmured,  shocked.  Hal  rose 
to  his  feet  and  went  to  the  window. 

Nobody  cared  to  break  the  silence  that  followed.  Miss 
Fletcher  felt  that  she  had  said  all  that  was  necessary,  and 
she  was,  to  do  her  justice,  horribly  ashamed  of  herself. 
Hal  was  speechless  with  wrath  at  Miss  Fletcher,  anger  and 
contempt  for  himself  and  pity  for  Sally.  Sally,  suddenly 
wounded  by  weapons  whose  edge  she  had  never  sus- 
pected, was  trying  to  keep  back  her  tears  of  agonizing 
maidenly  shame  and  outraged  modesty.  How  could  she 
explain  to  this  well-dressed,  cold-voiced  woman  that  this 
was  her  holy  of  holies,  never  entered  before  by  any  one 
but  herself,  her  refuge  in  trouble,  her  little  shrine  of  girlish 
play  and  dreams?  It  burst  over  her  that  she  must  set  her- 
self right,  at  all  cost,  at  the  great  price  of  hating  this  cabin 
and  all  its  associations  forever.  With  swift  intuition  she 
turned  to  Hal.  Her  sole  hope  of  being  understood  lay 
with  him,  not  with  the  woman.  She  began  bravely: 
"This  place  never  had  an  owner  since  the  settler  went 
away,  and  I  found  it  and  was  —  " 

Miss  Fletcher  suddenly  broke  in,  "Why  here's  a 
picture  of  Mr.  Spencer's  sister,  is  n't  it?    She's  an  actress? 


238         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

Well,  how  odd!  Look  here,  Mr.  Marini,  just  look  at  this 
funny  picture  of  that  odd  sister  of  Mr.  Spencer's." 

"No!  don't!"  Sally  cried. 

He  did  n't  understand  her  anxiety  and  was  glad  of 
any  opportunity  to  get  away  from  her  pleading  eyes.  He 
walked  over  and  stood  beside  Miss  Fletcher.  She  pointed 
to  the  photograph  with  a  gloved  finger.  "She's  some 
sort  of  a  variety  person,  I  take  it,"  she  said  carelessly. 
"And  what  a  name  she  has  —  Flossetta!  Really,  Mr. 
Marini,  you  have  some  of  the  very  oddest  characters 
almost  at  your  doors  in  this  Siletz!" 

Hal  did  not  answer.  He  was  staring  at  the  gaudy 
picture,  slowly  comprehending  the  false  smile,  the  artificial 
pose  and  the  meaning  of  it.  He  tried  to  fix  it  in  his  mind 
that  he  would  have  known  his  mother  had  he  seen  her. 
It  was  impossible  that  he  should  n't.  And  Miss  Spencer 
was  not  his  mother,  and  this  woman  said  she  recognized 
this  as  a  picture  of  Miss  Spencer.  Yet  in  flowing  script 
across  one  corner  ran  the  words  "Flossetta  Marini,  1899." 
He  stared.  In  the  middle  of  the  room,  poised  as  if  for 
flight,  Sally  watched  him  breathlessly.  True,  she  had 
intended  him  to  see  this  picture.  But  under  different 
circumstances,  with  no  one  present  to  witness  his  struggle 
between  duty  and  honor  and  ambition  and  hope  and 
future  success.  Now  he  saw  it  while  two  women  looked 
on,  one  of  them  a  representative  of  the  class  which  he 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         239 

must  abandon,  he  would  think,  if  he  acknowledged  Flos- 
setta  as  his  mother;  the  other  just  cruelly  wounded  and 
wronged  by  an  infamous  suggestion.    What  would  he  do? 

Miss  Fletcher,  knowing  nothing  of  this,  continued  her 
stroll  of  inspection.  When  she  had  concluded  it,  Hal 
still  stood  staring  at  the  photograph,  his  face  tense  and 
white. 

"You  seem  quite  struck  with  it,"  she  remarked. 
"Miss  Spencer  looks  really  quite  a  girl,  doesn*t  she? 
But  I  understand  these  women  age  very  fast  owing  to 
the  life  they  lead.    Probably  that  accounts  for  it." 

Sally  suddenly  turned  on  her  guest.  But  no  words 
would  come,  and  she  went  to  the  doorway,  where  she 
stood  gazing  through  tear-dimmed  eyes  into  the  barren 
future.  She  knew,  now,  that  all  her  hopes  had  been  in 
vain.  There  was  but  one  more  thing  she  could  do  for 
the  woman  dying  back  there  in  her  father's  cabin.  She 
could  conceal  from  her  the  fact  that  her  son  knew  and 
refused  to  admit  their  relationship.  She  clenched  her 
hands  before  her  and  struggled  against  a  sob. 

Hal  saw  and  heard  nothing  except  the  visions  of  his 
own  mind  and  the  voice  of  his  own  soul.  He  knew  now. 
It  was  all  explained,  Spencer's  taking  him  and  paying 
him  wages,  the  arrival  of  "Miss  Spencer,"  the  hot  words 
he  had  overheard  that  morning  from  Sally,  his  employer's 
flooding,  stinging  curses.    It  was  his  mother.    The  petty 


240         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

history  of  his  life  in  school  and  in  college  suddenly  un- 
rolled itself  before  him  and  assured  him  that  this  worn 
and  weary  woman  was  really  his  mother.  The  picture 
suddenly  grew  vivid  before  him  again,  with  its  legend, 
"JuANiTA,  THE  MEXICAN  DiVA."  There  suddenly 
flitted  round  the  glaring  photograph  a  scene  of  his  boy- 
hood, when  he  had  been  allowed  to  accompany  his  mother 
to  the  theater  one  night  and  watch  her  adorn  herself  in 
the  wonderful  dressing-room  and  disappear  through  the 
huge  wings,  not  to  reappear  for  a  long  time  and  then  ac- 
companied by  a  vast  clapping  of  hands  while  the  orchestra 
played  and  the  manager  stood  waiting  to  wave  her  back 
on  the  stage  to  smile  and  bow.  He  had  seen  a  woman 
sitting  in  the  shadow  of  the  wall,  dressed  like  this,  quite 
alone  and  ignored  by  everybody.  His  mother  had  told 
him  it  was  a  "variety  girl"  waiting  for  her  specialty, 
and  he  had  known  from  her  tone  and  the  manner  of  the 
girl  that  to  be  a  variety  girl  was  to  be  admitted  to  a  good 
theater  only  under  sufferance,  and  when  some  special 
part  of  the  play  was  unfitted  for  a  regular  member  of  the 
company.    He  had  never  forgotten  it. 

And  now  —  the  woman  sitting  in  the  shadow  of  the 
stage  wall,  amid  all  the  hurry  and  bustle  and  laughter 
and  applause  alone,  was  his  mother.  His  throat  seemed 
to  be  in  the  grasp  of  a  profound  and  incredible  sorrow. 
He  turned  away  and  walked  blindly  to  the  window. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         241 

Ten  minutes  later  he  left  the  window  and  looked  into 
the  room,  now  shadowed  by  the  coming  dusk.  Miss 
Fletcher  was  sitting  in  a  chair,  trying  to  understand 
what  had  happened.  In  the  long,  cold  silence  she  knew 
that  something  had  suddenly  left  her  quite  alone  be- 
tween these  two  incomprehensible  people.  She  suspected 
angrily  that  her  insinuations  against  Sally  accounted  for 
that  young  woman's  silence  and  refusal  to  meet  her 
glance.  But  what  could  have  suddenly  possessed  her 
escort,  she  failed  to  see. 

Her  impatience  at  this  position  was  growing  acute, 
and  when  Hal  turned  round  she  rose  quickly. 

"We  must  certainly  be  getting  home,"  she  said 
sharply. 

"Yes,  getting  home,''  he  repeated  slowly. 

Sally  turned  swiftly  at  the  tone.  He  met  her  eyes 
quietly.  Then,  with  a  little  laugh,  he  went  over  and 
took  down  the  photograph.  "I  think  I'll  keep  this,"  he 
said  slowly. 

Miss  Fletcher  glanced  at  him  in  surprise.  "Miss 
McCarthy  may  not  thank  you  for  carrying  off  her  valued 
portraits." 

He  drew  himself  up.  "I  owe  Miss  McCarthy  a  good 
deal  for  keeping  it  for  me,"  he  replied.  "It's  the  picture 
of  my  mother,  you  see." 

"Your  mother  !  "  ejaculated  Miss  Fletcher,  aghast. 


242         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

"Yes,"  he  answered  simply.  "And  now  let*s  go  home. 
Come  on,  Sally!'' 

She  said  nothing,  but  he  saw  that  she  was  trying  hard 
to  keep  from  crying,  and  when  she  failed  miserably  to 
find  the  key  in  the  lock,  he  locked  the  door  himself  and 
put  the  key  in  his  pocket.  Miss  Fletcher  refused  to  have 
anything  more  to  say.  But  as  they  crossed  the  clearing 
she  flushed  a  deeper  and  deeper  red  until  Sally  observed 
it,  took  pity  on  her  and  insisted  on  Hal's  going  ahead. 
When  they  reached  the  main  trail.  Miss  Fletcher 
stated  curtly  that  she  needed  no  escort  home  and 
left  them. 

Hal  walked  along  in  front  of  his  companion  for  a  few 
rods  and  then  turned  back  to  say,  "Were  you  going  to 
show  me  that  picture?  " 

"Not  when  anybody  was  around,"  she  said  quickly. 
"All  by  yourself!" 

"Will  you  tell  me  one  more  thing?" 

She  nodded. 

"Why  did  n't  anybody  dare  tell  me  before?  Why  did 
mother  come  this  way  —  without  letting  me  know?" 

"She  wanted  you  —  she  was  afraid  —  she  said  you 
would  n't  understand,"  she  stammered. 

His  face  went  white  again.  His  pain  was  so  evident 
that  Sally's  heart  went  out  in  a  rush  of  pity.  "I  told  her 
you'd  understand!"  she  cried. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

He  gazed  at  her,  and  Sally's  eyes  fell.  "Vm  glad,"  he 
said  huskily.     "Poor  mother!" 

An  hour  later,  Spencer  stamped  down  into  the  McCar- 
thy clearing  and  found  Sally  kneeling  by  the  spring,  care- 
less of  the  chill.  She  raised  wet  eyes  to  his,  and  he  saw 
that  she  had  been  crying.  "Pm  goin'  to  lick  that  cub 
within  an  inch  of  his  d — d  life,"  he  announced  hotly. 
"I'd  oughta  done  it  before.    He — " 

Sally  rose,  sobbing,  and  threw  herself  into  his  arms. 
"I'll  beat  him  to  death!"  Spencer  roared,  patting  her 
head.  "He  ain't  wuth  a  tear  of  any  woman!  Where  is 
he?    I'll  fix  him!" 

Sally  drew  herself  away,  and  her  sobs  turned  to  soft 
laughter.     "He's  in  with  his  mother,"  she  said. 

"With  his  mother!"  Spencer  ejaculated. 

At  that  moment  a  fresh  voice  sounded  through  the 
clearing  and  echoed  back  from  the  timber.  "Come  in 
here,  you  chump!  Come  in  here  till  I  lick  you!  I  prom- 
ised mother  I  would!" 

Spencer  gaped,  caught  Sally's  look  of  happiness  and 
then  grinned.  "I  ain't  never  been  licked  before,  but  I 
guess  it's  comin'  to  me  now!"  He  rolled  a  cigarette  be- 
tween his  trembling  fingers  and,  thus  prepared  with  it 
acock  between  his  lips,  he  entered  the  cabin  with  a  debo- 
nair and  careless  walk,  as  one  going  to  a  festival. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

"T'M  puttin*  on  weight  like  a  pullet  under  a  coop," 

A  Spencer  announced  a  couple  of  weeks  later  to  Sally. 
"All  along  of  your  cookin*." 

"My  sakes!"  she  answered,  making  a  great  din  with 
the  wash-pan.  "One'd  think  you  never  had  a  thought 
except  eating." 

He  tipped  his  chair  back  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  the 
ceiling.  "I  am  interested  in  grub,"  he  admitted.  "'Nd 
I'm  puttin*  on  weight  fine.  I  gotta  make  ten  pounds 
more." 

At  this  instant  the  door  opened,  and  Flossetta  en- 
tered, her  arms  ladened  with  ferns.  Hal  followed  her, 
clutching  at  a  huge  piece  of  wet  moss.  "Look  at  the 
maiden's-hair!"  Flossetta  cried. 

Spencer  looked  at  it  with  an  air  of  connoisseurship. 
"That's  just  fine,"  he  agreed.  "But  there  are  lots  bigger 
ferns  than  those.  Miss  Flossetta." 

She  sniffed,  and  Hal,  laying  the  chunk  of  moss  down, 
stated  that  had  it  not  been  for  the  inconvenience,  he  be- 
lieved his  mother  would  have  insisted  on  bringing  in  two 
or  three  of  the  largest-sized  fir-trees. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         245 

"Of  course,  I  would,"  she  responded  cheerfully.  "I 
just  love  these  woods.    Don't  you,  Sally?" 

"You'll  catch  your  death  of  cold  if  you  don't  put 
them  down  right  away,"  said  that  young  woman  dicta- 
torially.  "My  sakes!  even  a  frog  would  get  chilled  with 
all  those  wet  ferns  in  his  arms." 

"Frogs  don't  have  arms,"  Hal  aflBrmed. 

"Nor  men  heads,"  was  the  tart  answer.  "You  and 
your  mother  are  a  pair  of  children,  that's  what  you  are." 

Flossetta  put  down  the  ferns  and  went  over  and  kissed 
her  hostess,  much  to  Spencer's  silent  delight.  She  then 
flung  her  cap  into  one  corner  of  the  room,  smiled  at  Hal 
and  proceeded  to  tuck  up  the  sleeves  of  the  blue  flannel 
shirt  she  wore  preparatory  to  helping  Sally  finish  the 
dish-washing.  The  wan  and  faded  woman  who  had 
arrived  at  the  McCarthy  cabin  but  a  few  days  before 
had  suddenly  grown  into  a  matronly  and  exceedingly 
happy-looking  woman  whose  age  might,  to  a  superficial 
observer,  have  been  anywhere  between  thirty  and  thirty- 
five.  Now  and  then  she  paused  in  her  household  tasks  to 
stop  and  gaze  at  her  tall  son  with  a  look  which  made 
Sally  clatter  the  dishes  and  generally  create  a  strong 
diversion  —  all  to  Spencer's  intense  gratification. 

Hal  himself  seemed  to  have  heavier  cares  than  any  of 
the  rest.  His  affectionate  glance  would  rest  on  his  mother, 
and  then  he  would  stare  into  space  as  though  to  read 


t 


246         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

there  an  assurance  that  he  was  equal  to  all  his  tasks.  For 
the  final  arrangements  had  been  made  for  his  going  to 
Portland  to  contest  Lim  White's  claim,  and  both  Flos- 
setta  and  Sally  showed  their  anxiety  over  the  outcome  in 
many  womanly  ways.  Of  the  three  the  only  unconcerned 
one,  apparently,  was  Spencer,  who  refused  absolutely 
to  give  any  grounds  for  his  hopefulness  or  the  brief  as- 
surances he  uttered  now  and  then  that  "Lim'll  hunt  his 
hole/' 

It  is  likely  that  Sally  had  an  inkling  of  his  plans,  for 
she  watched  his  voracious  appetite  and  incessant  labor 
with  the  ax  and  occasionally  warned  him  against  over- 
doing it.  At  these  times  Spencer  would  glance  at  her 
with  sudden  smiles  and  shake  his  head.  "I  gotta  get 
the  weight,"  he  would  explain. 

During  this  time  McCarthy  paid  a  visit  to  his  daughter, 
ostensibly  to  get  his  felling  wedges,  but  in  reality  to  warn 
her  crossly  that  she  was  "spoiling  everything  by  letting 
that  galoot  Hal  hang  round."  His  warning  was  received 
in  silence;  he  left,  grumbling  in  his  beard  and  resolved 
that  when  White's  final  proof  had  been  accepted  and 
Marini's  contest  dismissed,  there  would  be  a  hard  reck- 
oning between  him  and  these  tenderfeet.  Before  he  de- 
parted, he  announced  that  the  following  Sunday  night 
he  and  White  might  be  expected  to  stop  on  their  way  to 
Toledo  and  Portland. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         247 

As  this  raised  a  question  that  Sally  was  incapable  of 
solving  alone,  she  took  it  to  Spencer.  "Father's  going 
to  bring  Lim  White  down  Sunday,"  she  told  him;  "and 
of  course  father '11  expect  him  to  stay,  and  then  they'll 
go  on  out  in  the  morning.  What '11  we  do  with  Hal  and 
his  mother?" 

"They  won't — "  Spencer  began  and  stopped.  "I 
mean,  bring  them  over  to  my  shack.  I  gotta  be  away 
then,  anyway,  and  Hal's  gotta  go  to  Portland  Monday, 
too.  You  and  Miss  Flossetta  better  just  come  and  stay 
here  and  be  comfortable  with  nobody  to  bother  you." 

So  it  was  agreed. 

The  next  day  the  scout  turned  up,  was  introduced  to 
Mrs.  Marini,  as  she  now  called  herself,  talked  the  con- 
test over  with  Hal  and  promised  to  be  on  hand  to  go  to 
Portland.  Before  he  left,  he  announced  that  Lim  White 
and  McCarthy  were  very  busy  putting  the  last  "im- 
provements" in.  "Yer  dad  is  goin'  to  help  Barnes  fell 
some  of  his  trees  before  he  goes  out  to  witness  for  Lim," 
he  remarked. 

"Where's  Barnes's?"  Spencer  demanded,  with  a  show 
of  indifference. 

"About  two  miles  from  Lim's,"  was  the  reply.  "I 
heard  Barnes  talkin'  about  it,  but  McCarthy's  to  stop 
at  Lim's  till  Sunday  morning.  Lim's  got  his  hands  full 
sticking  little  trees  round  for  an  orchard  and  he  das  n't 


248        THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

leave  the  place  till  Sunday  morning  anyhow.  He's 
scared  Hal  here '11  get  on  the  place  and  build  a  cabin 
if  he  does." 

He  left,  and  Spencer  announced  an  hour  later  that  he 
would  have  to  go  to  Newport  Friday  or  Saturday.  "  Gotta 
get  some  things,"  he  explained. 

"Why  doesn't  Hal  go  with  you,  then?"  his  mother 
inquired. 

"He  can't,"  Spencer  replied  hastily.  "He's  gotta 
meet  the  scout  and  his  other  witness  at  Toledo.  Any- 
way, I  gotta  make  the  trip  quick,  and  Hal  would  n't  want 
to  have  two  days  on  his  hands  with  nothin'  to  do.  He 
better  wait  till  Monday." 

On  Saturday  morning  Sally  and  Flossetta  left  the 
McCarthy  cabin  and  made  the  trip  to  Spencer's,  both 
men  escorting  them.  To  Hal's  mother  this  was  an  ex- 
perience never  to  be  forgotten.  The  immense  stillness  of 
the  forest,  broken  only  by  the  far-away  grinding  of  some 
frosted  limb  against  another,  or  the  sharp  crackle  of  a 
falling  stub,  exhilarated  her.  Now  and  then,  as  the  trail 
rounded  the  shoulder  of  a  lofty  ridge  and  she  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  vast,  fathomless  green  depth,  she  would 
pause,  glancing  brightly  at  her  son  as  though  to  make 
him  understand  her  peace  and  content  and  happiness  in 
this  wilderness,  where  there  was  no  sound  of  the  riotous 
and  dreadful  world. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS        249 

Spencer  tried  to  show  animation  and  appreciation,  too; 
but  as  they  progressed  his  face  gradually  assumed  a  stern 
and  uncompromising  expression,  on  which  he  was  gently 
rallied,  but  without  effect.  When  dinner  was  over  in  the 
new  place,  he  called  Hal  outside. 

"I  wanta  tell  ye  somethin',*'  he  began  awkwardly. 
"As  I  understand  this,  you  and  your  lawyer '11  be  right 
on  hand  and  fight  this  thing  to  a  finish.  Now  I  just 
wanta  say  this:  never  mind  what  anybody  does  or  what 
anybody  says:  you  just  go  right  ahead  and  fight  to  win. 
See?  No  matter  what  Lim  does,  or  what  his  lawyer 
does,  or  anybody,  you  just  hang  on  and  say  you  want 
that  claim  and  want  it  quick  !    See?" 

"I  guess  I  do,"  was  the  response.  "But  honestly  I 
don*t  expect  to  get  it.  He's  too  big  a  man  for  me  to  buck 
against.    He's  got  too  many  friends." 

"He's  got  one  man  that  ain't  a  friend,"  was  the  savage 
answer.  "That's  me.  I  ain't  no  quitter.  'Nd  you  get 
the  claim.    See?" 

Hal  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  see.  But  I'll  hang  on 
and  fight  it  out.     Mother  counts  on  my  getting  it." 

"Now  you're  talkin'  real  loud  and  plain,"  Spencer 
assented,  his  face  relaxing.  "You  just  say,  'My  mother 
counts  on  this.'  You'll  get  it,  you  bet,  while  there's  a 
bat  flyin'  in  hell." 

As  they  went  in,  Hal  glanced  at  the  sky  which  was 


250         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

gradually  being  overcast  with  a  gray  film.  Sally  looked 
up  and  observed  his  glance.  "It's  going  to  storm,"  she 
said  quietly. 

"Storm!"  echoed  Flossetta,  from  her  chair  by  the 
window.  "Won't  that  be  fine?  Hal  was  telling  me  how 
the  trees  were  blown  down  and  all  the  noise  and  uproar. 
I'd  like  to  see  it." 

Sally  looked  at  Spencer  thoughtfully.  "Are  all  your 
trees  safe?" 

"I  guess  so,"  was  his  reply.  "Unless  Lim's  gone  and 
chopped  at  some  of  them.  He  might  think  that  was  one 
way  of  gettin'  rid  of  me." 

Sally  shuddered.  "I  don't  like  storms,"  she  said 
quietly. 

Spencer  went  out  and  stared  at  the  patch  of  sky  visible 
above  the  clearing  and  studied  it  carefully.  The  wind 
was  still  in  the  east,  and  the  gray  film  seemed  to  move 
with  a  sluggishness  that  convinced  him  that  there  was  as 
yet  no  wind  behind  it.  "About  day  after  tomorrow 
night  would  suit  me  to  a  T,"  he  observed  to  himself, 
shook  his  head  doubtfully  and  re-entered  the  cabin  to 
stare  at  the  wall  for  a  long  period  till  Sally  inquired 
whether  he  was  in  love. 

"Sure,"  he  remarked  carelessly.    "Always  was." 

Flosetta  looked  up  and  bent  down  again,  while  a  faint 
flush  ruddied  her  cheek.     Hal  was  busy  over  his  pack- 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS        251 

sack  and  did  not  look  up.  But  when  he  did,  he  was  pleased 
to  see  how  his  mother  was  improving  in  health. 

"You're  getting  quite  a  color,  mother,"  he  remarked. 
"Never  saw  so  big  an  improvement." 

"It's  Sally's  good  cooking,"  his  mother  answered 
quickly. 

"It's  always  Sally,"  he  responded,  smiling  at  that 
young  lady.  "  First  it  was  Spencer  that  swore  by  her  and 
now  it's  you." 

"Hal's  the  only  one  that  doesn't  know  what's  good 
for  him,"  Spencer  growled,  and  Sally  found  it  necessary 
to  go  out  to  the  spring  for  fresh  water,  while  Hal  flushed 
under  his  mother's  curious  and  timid  glance. 

The  next  morning  found  the  timber  freed  from  frost 
and  dripping  with  mist.  A  weak  breeze  was  blowing  from 
the  southeast,  and  Spencer,  after  grave  calculation,  an- 
nounced that  he  must  be  on  his  way  to  Newport.  "It's 
Saturday  and  I  gotta  be  there  Sunday.  This  rain '11  get 
worse  instead  of  better,  and  I  better  be  moggin'  along." 

He  put  on  his  boots  and  ostentatiously  demanded  of 
Flossetta  and  Sally  what  kind  of  candy  they  preferred 
him  to  bring.  All  the  while  he  was  slinging  on  his  pack 
he  kept  up  a  fire  of  raillery,  which  only  ceased  when  he 
was  out  in  the  clearing,  and  Sally  ran  after  him  to  thrust 
another  package  into  the  sack  on  his  back.  "  More  grub," 
she  said  curtly. 


252        THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

"Thanks.  Fm  feelin' pretty  fit,  Sally.  Much  obliged." 
He  stopped  short  and  held  out  his  hand.  "Take  care  of 
'em,  Sally,"  he  said,  with  sudden  earnestness.    "  Good-by." 

She  fixed  her  gray  eyes  on  him  with  a  profound  and 
inscrutable  look  of  encouragement,  of  approval,  of  knowl- 
edge of  his  errand.  He  answered  it  with  an  almost  im- 
perceptible nod  of  his  head.  Then  he  turned  away  and 
passed  out  of  the  clearing  and  into  the  creek  bottom,  while 
Sally  watched  him,  the  mist  gathering  like  a  white  and 
shining  veil  on  her  bare  head,  till  he  vanished.  "I  wonder 
how  he'll  do  it? "  she  thought  to  herself.  She  remembered 
the  night  she  had  driven  Lim  White  snarling  into  the 
timber,  and  her  face  lit  with  a  swift,  fierce  hope.  Then 
she  returned  to  the  cabin. 

Spencer  traveled  slowly  along  the  trail  till  he  came  to 
the  tree  that  marked  the  spot  where  the  Newport  and 
Otter  Rock  trails  met.  Here  he  sat  down  and  rested  his 
pack  on  a  log,  which  served  as  back  to  his  rude  seat.  He 
adjusted  the  straps  over  his  shoulders  to  an  easier  fit, 
wiped  his  forehead  to  see  if  he  were  sweating,  found  he 
was  not,  appeared  strongly  gratified,  rolled  a  cigarette, 
threw  it  away  without  lighting  it,  and  ate  a  biscuit  in- 
stead. Then  he  reckoned  up  his  journey  aloud:  "Eight 
miles  to  the  beach  and  ten  miles  more  to  Depot  Bay  and 
two  miles  more  to  Lim  White's  place.  Twenty  miles." 
He  looked  at  his  watch  and  saw  that  it  was  ten  o'clock. 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS        253 

Then  he  turned  his  back  on  the  road  to  Newport  and 
began  his  long  tramp  to  Depot  Bay. 

The  mist  thickened  as  he  made  his  slow  way  over  the 
twisting  and  encumbered  trail.  It  gathered  in  little  mir- 
rors on  the  salal  leaves  and  festooned  the  ferns  with 
gauzy  veils.  It  made  the  steep  pitches  slippery  and 
settled  into  the  hollows  like  condensing  steam.  Down  in 
the  canyon  it  hid  all  but  the  upper  halves  of  the  trees, 
which  emerged  from  it  like  reeds  from  a  pool.  Up  on  the 
heights  it  mingled  with  the  low  clouds  and  drove  off  be- 
fore the  wind  in  great  gray  plumes.  Spencer  gradually 
felt  it  in  his  lungs,  and  it  made  him  cough,  and  coughing 
made  the  perspiration  start.  But  he  kept  doggedly  on, 
wiping  his  dripping  face  with  his  sleeve. 

At  noon  he  halted  by  a  deserted  shack  that  had  once 
represented  the  "home"  of  a  homesteader.  The  shake 
roof  had  decayed  and  fallen  in,  and  tender  grass  sprouted 
its  pale  green  in  the  rotted  straw  in  the  bunk.  He  con- 
templated this  while  he  devoured  more  biscuit  and  drank 
part  of  the  bottle  of  coffee  that  Sally  had  supplied.  In 
the  steadily  falling  mist  and  the  dark  air  it  assumed  a 
dead  and  unwholesome  appearance  that  he  did  not  like. 
Several  times  he  shook  his  head  at  it  and  was  finally  so 
oppressed  that  he  rolled  a  cigarette  and  lit  it  as  the  only 
possible  stimulant  under  such  circumstances.  The  first 
inhalation  made  him  cough,  and  he  swore.    It  reminded 


254         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

him  too  much  of  the  history  of  his  own  claim,  and  the 
men  and  women  who  had  died  in  this  sunless  forest, 
gasping  for  a  breath  of  the  fresher  air  and  a  sight  of  the 
open  sky. 

Two  hours  later  he  emerged  from  the  mouth  of  a  canyon 
upon  the  county  road.  As  if  by  a  sudden  unclosing  of  his 
ears,  he  heard  the  thunder  of  the  surf  on  the  shore.  A  few 
more  steps  and  he  stood  in  the  road  and  out  of  the  shadow 
of  the  timber.  He  had  never  traveled  this  way  before, 
but  he  knew  the  directions  and  remembered  that  another 
mile  of  tramping  should  bring  him  to  the  crest  of  the  big 
cape,  whence  a  second  trail  would  take  him  to  Depot  Bay. 
He  began  the  long  and  muddy  ascent. 

At  the  house  on  the  bald  top  of  the  cape  he  saw  nobody. 
By  this  time  it  was  raining  heavily,  and  he  could  barely 
distinguish  the  flat  gray  extent  of  the  Pacific  far  below 
him.  He  noticed  that  the  wind  had  shifted  into  the 
south-east,  and  that  the  clouds  were  still  unbroken.  It 
satisfied  him  that  the  storm  would  not  break  for  many 
hours  yet. 

With  some  difficulty  and  many  references  to  a  drip- 
ping sign-board  on  a  tree,  he  found  the  trail  that  was  to 
take  him  to  Depot  Bay.  It  dipped  from  the  road  across  a 
huge  rolling  down,  and  when  he  had  followed  it  a  mile  he 
found  himself  skirting  the  edge  of  a  cliff  of  sharp,  jagged 
rock,  at  whose  foot  the  surf  was  tumbling.     Now  and 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS        ^55 

then  a  gull  swung  out  of  the  mist,  shot  swiftly  by  and 
vanished,  sole  life  of  this  dreary  spot.  Once  he  thought 
he  heard  a  dog  bark,  but  decided  that  his  ear  had  been 
deceived.  The  trail  swung  round  another  shoulder,  was 
almost  lost  among  scantily  covered  rocks  and  then  shot 
upwards  to  the  dark  trench  of  the  road. 

The  next  few  miles  stirred  his  interest.  The  road  be- 
came an  impassable  bog,  and  he  had  to  run  along  logs  in 
the  brush  on  one  side  of  it,  cross  up  to  his  knees  in  mud  or 
absolutely  abandon  it  to  scramble  along  a  vague  trail  for 
a  few  rods  till  a  pitch  gave  him  secure  footing  again  on 
the  main  way.  At  every  turn  he  saw  new  things.  Little 
bays  hollowed  out  of  smooth  rock  opened  up  below  him, 
their  slender  beaches  strewn  with  drift-wood  and  haunted 
by  mews.  Gradually  the  timber  closed  down  upon  him 
again,  the  huge  trees  stepping  boldly  clear  to  the  margin 
of  the  cliff.  He  mounted  great  shoulders  of  rock  and 
descended  on  the  other  side  to  ford  brawling  streams. 
Waterfalls  spun  their  thread  of  noise  far  inland.  Springs 
bubbled  at  his  feet.  And  through  all  and  over  all  was  the 
loud  roar  of  the  sea  sweeping  against  the  rocks  and  foam- 
ing into  the  bays. 

As  the  afternoon  darkened  into  evening,  he  quickened 
his  pace.  He  had  not  yet  reached  Depot  Bay,  and  he  knew 
from  gossip  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  cross  it  after 
nightfall  were  the  tide  in.    He  had  forgotten  to  look  up 


256         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

what  hour  the  tide  was  low,  and  he  could  not  tell  from 
the  shores  of  the  bays,  as  he  had  never  seen  them  before. 
It  was  certainly  time  he  was  arriving. 

Just  when  he  was  debating  whether  he  was  not  lost, 
the  road  dipped  down  the  steep  side  of  the  shoulder  he  had 
ascended,  curved  among  the  big  spruces  and  hemlocks 
into  a  sort  of  green  tunnel  and  then  stopped.  Peering  out 
across  a  dull  extent  of  weedy  gravel  interspersed  with 
mantled  pools,  Spencer  recognized  that  strange  spot 
known  to  all  Siletz  settlers  as  Depot  Bay. 

Behind  him  the  hill  rose  to  lofty,  rainy  heights.  To  his 
left  a  high  wall  of  rock  ciu*ved  away  in  an  apparently 
unbroken  arc.  On  his  right  hand  the  hill's  bluff  formed 
another  curve  that  met  the  first  just  ahead  of  him  and 
across  the  gravel.  This  huge  circular  wall  was  filled  with 
the  thunder  of  the  invisible  surf.  Here  and  there  dark 
logs  were  strewn,  showing  that  the  tide  ebbed  and  flowed 
across  the  shoals.  And  his  sharpest  glances  could  perceive 
no  inlet  or  exit. 

It  was  growing  late,  however,  and  he  started  across  the 
gravel.  He  scented  beneath  him  the  pungent  smells  of 
tide  and  seaweed.  Little  crabs  scuttled  out  from  under 
the  stones  his  feet  disturbed,  and  he  observed  that  the 
green  that  covered  the  pools  was  the  floating  blades  of 
sea-grass.  He  waded  a  small  creek  and  was  amazed  to 
hear  the  rasp  of  the  gravel  under  his  feet  suddenly  magni- 


THE  LAND  CLAIM ERS         257 

fied  and  thrown  back  on  him  like  the  crash  of  a  stony 
cascade.  A  moment  later  he  saw  a  wagon-track  and 
followed  it  till  it  turned  round  a  big  black  log  and  shot 
up  a  little  incline,  which  he  saw  was  the  entrance  to  a 
road.  Safely  here,  he  turned  to  glance  over  the  bay 
again.  As  he  did  so,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  flickering 
white  in  the  seaward  wall.  It  rose  swiftly,  foamed  and 
swept  into  the  bay  through  the  split  in  the  rock.  The 
farther  pools  surged  as  the  water  poured  into  them,  and 
the  foam,  gyrating  on  their  troubled  surfaces,  gradually 
melted  away.  "Tm  in  luck,"  Spencer  muttered.  "They 
say  this  place  is  full  when  the  tide's  in."  He  stared  up 
at  its  steep,  vine-festooned  walls  and  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders.   It  was  a  trap  for  the  unwary. 

When  he  had  emerged  from  the  bay,  he  quickly  found 
the  small  board  that  said  "White's  Cabin  2  Blazes 
2  Miles,"  which  he  rightly  interpreted  to  mean  that  if 
he  followed  a  trail  marked  by  trees  with  two  blazes  for 
two  miles  he  would  arrive  at  his  destination.  Settling  his 
pack  more  firmly  on  his  tired  shoulders,  he  turned  off  the 
road  into  the  brush  and  was  soon  back  in  the  forest  again, 
out  of  sound  of  the  sea  and  with  no  view  of  the  sky  above 
him. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  he  crossed  a  small  clearing, 
stumbling  over  several  small  trees  that  tipped  over  as 
though  they  had  no  roots,  and  knocked  at  the  door  of  the 


258         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

cabin.  A  moment  later  Lim  White  was  staring  at  him. 
Spencer  pushed  his  way  in.  "  I  came  pretty  nearly  being 
late  for  supper,  I  guess,"  he  said  airily.  "Better  late  than 
never,  though." 

White  shut  the  door  and  returned  to  the  stove.  "I'll 
fix  some  more  ham." 

Spencer  slung  his  pack-sack  from  his  shoulders  and 
took  off  his  reeking  jacket.  "It's  goin'  to  storm,"  he 
remarked. 

White  nodded.  "  I  did  n't  expect  to  see  you  in  this 
part  of  the  country,"  he  said  indifferently. 

"I  came  over  to  look  at  young  Marini's  new  place," 
Spencer  retorted,  and  White,  after  an  uneasy  stare, 
smiled  coldly.  But  he  decided  that  Spencer  was  come  to 
compromise  and  he  did  not  think  fit  to  rebuff  him.  They 
sat  down  to  the  meagre  supper  in  apparent  good  humor 
and  devoted  themselves  to  the  victuals.  Once  or  twice 
White  stopped  eating  to  Usten  for  something.  "I  was 
listening  for  the  wind,"  he  explained.  "It  looks  like  a 
storm." 

"Yes,"  Spencer  assented,  reaching  for  a  biscuit. 

"I'm  going  out  to  McCarthy's  in  the  morning,"  White 
went  on.    "I'd  hate  to  see  it  blow  before  then." 

His  anxiety  did  not  escape  the  other  man.  "You  know 
we've  had  so  long  a  spell  of  good  weather  we'll  pretty 
sure  have  a  hard  storm,"  White  went  on. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         259 

"I  believe  you,"  Spencer  answered  cheerfully.  "And 
it'll  delay  your  getting  to  Portland  to  prove  up.'* 

"Oh,  if  it  storms  too  hard,  I'll  go  down  the  beach  to 
Newport,"  was  the  reply. 

Spencer  did  not  answer  but  reached  for  more  biscuit. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WHEN  the  meal  was  finished,  Spencer  got  up  and 
went  outside,  where  he  surveyed  the  dim  patch 
of  clouds  visible  above  the  swaying  tree-tops.  In  the 
darkness  it  was  difficult  to  distinguish  their  movement, 
but  the  growing  roar  among  the  branches  and  the  sudden 
surging  of  the  limbs  towards  the  tops  of  the  firs  showed 
that  the  wind  was  rising.  "  It  '11  blow ! "  Spencer  chuckled 
to  himself.  "So  much  the  better."  He  re-entered  the 
cabin  and  watched  White  wash  up  the  dishes  with  feeble 
and  inefficient  efforts,  as  though  he  thought  it  beneath 
his  dignity.  When  this  work  was  done,  White  came 
over  and  sat  down  by  the  stove. 

"I  suppose  you've  come  over  to  see  whether  I 
would  n't  like  to  buy  Marini's  relinquishment,"  he 
said. 

Spencer  cocked  one  eye  at  the  rafters  and  meditated. 
"I  dunno  know  as  that  was  it,"  he  remarked.  "There 
was  several  things  I  wanted  to  see  you  about." 

"Well,  out  with  'em,"  White  said  roughly.  "I  got  to 
be  up  at  daylight  to  go  in  and  I'm  tired.  I'm  going  to 
bed  early." 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS        261 

Spencer  nodded,  with  every  appearance  of  anxiety. 
"I'd  like  to  have  time  to  talk  about  this,"  he  said.  "I'd 
hate  to  be  hurried." 

"I  have  n't  got  all  night,"  was  the  response. 

There  was  a  silence,  during  which  White  glanced  con- 
temptuously at  the  weazened  figure  of  his  visitor.  It 
occurred  to  him  that  Spencer  had  lost  his  nerve  and  was 
afraid  to  open  the  business  that  had  brought  him  so  far. 
He  yawned  and  got  up. 

"If  you  happen  to  think  of  anything  to  say  while  I 
get  into  bed,  you  might  mention  it,"  he  said  loudly. 

"I  will,"  Spencer  replied,  with  every  appearance  of 
timidity.  White,  after  one  look  of  absolute  indifference 
to  anything  that  Spencer  might  say  or  do,  drew  off  his 
boots  and  his  clothes  and  rolled  himself  up  in  his  blankets, 
without  even  indicating  where  Spencer  could  sleep.  The 
latter  knew  that  this  was  a  discourtesy  that  White  would 
not  have  dared  offer  to  any  man  but  a  settler,  no  matter 
how  bitter  their  feud,  and  he  smiled. 

White,  after  several  sly  glances  at  Spencer  who  still 
sat  by  the  fire,  fell  asleep  and  testified  to  the  soundness 
of  his  slumber  by  loud  snores.  Spencer  kept  up  the  fire 
but  made  no  sign  of  his  own  intention  of  going  to  bed.  He 
sat  and  dreamed,  an  occasional  smile  flickering  over  his 
lean  face,  or  a  transient  frown  indicating  that  the  course 
of  his'thought  had  an  unpleasant  turn.    Without,  the  wind 


262         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

grew  in  strength,  and  the  note  of  the  timber  grew  in  vol- 
ume. To  tell  the  truth,  the  watcher's  thoughts  did  not 
comprehend  the  storm  outside,  though  it  is  likely  that 
it  had  a  subconscious  effect;  he  was  retracing  the  events 
of  his  varied  life,  noting  here  a  success,  there  a  failure; 
living  over  again  a  moment  of  happiness,  trudging  wearily 
back  over  a  half -forgotten  and  ugly  by-path. 

Every  now  and  again  his  mouth  twisted  grimly.  For 
as  often  as  the  circle  of  his  thoughts  turned  on  itself,  he 
saw  the  letter  he  had  received  in  which  the  doctor  had 
warned  him  of  his  infirmity  and  stated  the  result  of  excite- 
ment and  strife.  But  as  often  as  he  saw  these  words  again 
he  shook  his  head  slightly  and  murmured,  "I  ain't  no 
quitter!" 

Once  in  a  while  he  would  look  at  the  sleeper  with  a 
careful  and  appraising  glance  at  his  long  limbs  and  evident 
physical  strength.  Then  he  would  start  out  again  on  the 
long  round  of  thought  and  pain  and  brief  happiness.  He 
stirred  the  fire. 

The  cheap  clock  announced  midnight,  and  he  still  sat 
by  the  stove  and  White  still  slept  stertorously.  The  wind 
was  rising  fast.  Far  up  the  mountain  weak  stubs  were 
yielding  to  its  blast  and  tumbling  with  faint  detonations, 
like  the  explosion  of  damp  powder.  Once  a  larger  body 
fell  with  a  noise  that  resounded  heavily  through  the 
clearing.    White  twisted  restlessly  in  his  bunk. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         263 

The  hours  passed  slowly,  one  o'clock,  two  o'clock,  three 
o'clock,  four  o'clock.  The  darkness  deepened,  and  the 
shrill  note  of  the  gale  was  to  be  heard.  Over  the  little 
cabin  the  huge  fir  limbs  twisted  and  groaned,  showering 
great  splashes  of  water  down  on  the  shake  roof.  The  fire 
in  the  stove  panted,  glowed  brightly  as  the  draft  sucked 
up  the  pipe  or  fumed  when  an  eddy  burst  down  from  above. 
But  as  yet  the  cabin  was  unshaken,  and  the  air  in  the 
clearing  only  faintly  answered  to  the  howling  tempest 
above.  But  as  five  o'clock  drew  on  White  sat  up,  rubbing 
his  eyes.  A  gust  had  rocked  the  cabin,  and  the  thunder 
of  a  falling  tree  reverberated  loudly.  He  stared  at  Spencer 
and  said  querulously,  "It's  storming." 

There  was  no  reply.  White  lay  down  again  and  turned 
his  face  to  the  wall.  But  when  a  second  huge  fir  crashed 
down  near  by,  the  echo  of  its  fall  resounding  in  the  very 
room,  he  sat  up  swiftly  and  swore.  Spencer  observed  the 
tokens  of  fear  and  smiled.    " It's  easy,"  he  said  to  himself. 

Dawn  saw  White  trying  to  gain  courage  to  go  out  the 
door  for  a  bucket  of  water.  But  the  beating  rain,  the 
shrieking  wind  and  the  turmoil  in  the  timber  had  taken 
his  last  bit  of  nerve,  and  he  failed  even  to  pass  the  door. 

"  You  'd  oughta  cut  down  some  of  them  big  fellows  over 
the  cabin,"  Spencer  said  coldly.  "If  one  of  them  blows 
down,  you'll  be  a  dead  one,  siu-e." 

White  glared  at  him  with  a  curse. 


264         THE  LAND  CLAIM  ERS 

"Yes,  sir,"  Spencer  pursued.  "I'd  hate  to  take  the 
chances  you  do.  But  then  you  won't  be  here  much 
longer,  of  course.    'Nd  those  trees  are  wuth  money." 

"It  never  stormed  this  way  before,"  White  muttered. 
"It's  awful." 

"Oh,  yes,  it's  stormed  worse 'n  this,"  Spencer  affirmed 
confidently.  "  'Nd  this  storm  ain't  really  on  its  legs  yet. 
You  just  wait  till  it  blows.''  He  rolled  a  cigarette  and  lit 
it  with  a  careful  hand.  He  glanced  over  at  his  host. 
"Cigarettes  ain't  very  good  for  me,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  'Nd  I  don't  smoke  'em  when  I  'm  tryin'  to  put  on 
weight.  But  I  guess  I  c'n  afford  to  smoke  one  now. 
You  smoke  too  much  yourself.  Look  at  that  hand,  now. 
You're  all  of  a  shake." 

White  recovered  himself  by  a  great  effort  and  growled 
something  that  was  inarticulate.  He  set  the  water  bucket 
down  and  retired  to  the  stove.  Spencer  rose,  picked  it  up 
and  started  for  the  door.  "If  you'll  tell  me  where  your 
spring  is,"  he  suggested,  "I'll  fetch  something  to  drink." 

"Down  under  the  big  spruce,"  was  the  reply. 

Spencer  shut  the  door  behind  him  and  struggled  across 
the  clearing  to  the  spot  indicated.  When  he  had  filled  his 
bucket  he  stopped  and  stared  up  at  the  gray  sky.  Far 
above  him  a  fir's  crest  leaned  away  over,  as  though  sud- 
denly fixed  there  by  some  weighty  and  invisible  hand 
upon  it.    On  the  other  side  of  the  clearing  a  broken  limb, 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         265 

still  clinging  to  the  mother  trunk  by  long  yellow  withes, 
twirled  rapidly,  first  one  way  and  then  the  other. 
''That'll  be  down  on  us  pretty  soon,"  Spencer  said  aloud. 
Then  he  made  his  way  back  into  the  cabin. 

As  he  set  the  bucket  down,  there  was  a  sudden,  sharp, 
muffled  report.  The  building  shook  with  rapid,  sicken- 
ing vibrations.  As  White  started  to  his  feet  Spencer 
opened  the  door.  Just  outside,  one  end  thrust  through  the 
shakes  of  the  porch  deep  into  the  sour  soil,  the  huge  branch 
that  had  been  twirling  two  hundred  feet  in  the  air  but  a 
moment  before  shivered  from  the  impact  of  its  descent. 

"I  told  you  you'd  oughta  cut  them  trees  down," 
Spencer  remarked,  closing  the  door  carefully.  "When 
you  goin'  to  start  for  Portland?" 

"Not  now.  It's  two  miles  to  the  road,  right  through 
the  timber,"  was  the  reply.  "It  would  be  death  to 
try  it! " 

"I  guess  you're  right,"  was  the  calm  response.  "But 
if  you  don't  go,  you'll  lose  your  claim.  If  you  ain't  there, 
you  won't  stand  any  show." 

"I'll  telegraph,"  White  said  rapidly.  "I'll  send  Mc- 
Carthy over  to  Toledo  to  wire  them  that  I'll  be  up  the 
next  day." 

"Good  idea,"  Spencer  said  heartily,  but  his  spirits 
fell  when  he  thought  that  Hal  might  be  detained,  too,  by 
the  storm.    But  Hal  was  twenty  miles  nearer  Toledo,  a 


266         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

day's  trip.  He  wished  he  had  sent  him  off  before  with  his 
witnesses.  But  it  was  too  late  to  wish.  He  sat  down  and 
stared  at  White  with  complacent  interest. 

He  had  to  get  his  own  breakfast,  as  his  host  seemed 
incapable  of  directed  effort.  When  he  had  finished  it, 
he  set  the  coffee-pot  on  the  back  of  the  stove  and  sat  down 
at  the  table. 

"I  guess  we  might  as  well  get  down  to  that  little  busi- 
ness,'* he  remarked  loudly. 

White  suddenly  seemed  to  recover  himself.  "What  do 
you  want?"  he  said  harshly.  " I  won't  pay  a  cent  for  the 
relinquishment  of  that  young  cub.  I  offered  to  do  the 
friendly  thing  and  he  refused." 

"  That  was  n't  it.  You  have  a  short  memory,  Mr. 
White.  First"  —  Spencer  counted  the  items  off  on  the 
fingers  of  one  hand  —  "you  soaked  me  eight  hundred 
dollars  for  that  claim  I've  got.  It  ain't  wuth  a  dollar. 
Second,  you  done  up  old  lady  Parthemore  and  her  gell 
for  this  claim.  Third,  you  ain't  run  up  against  a  man, 
and  your  eddication  is  poor  yet." 

"You've  talked  a  plenty,"  White  stormed.  "Now  you 
get  out  of  this  place  —  qnick  !  If  you  don't,  I  '11  throw 
you  out!"  " 

"You  ain't  heard  me  out,"  Spencer  went  on  imperturb- 
ably.  "Now  you've  gotta  do  this:  gimme  me  back  my 
eight  hundred  plunks  and  make  out  your  relinquishment 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         267 

to  Hal  Marini.  You  do  that  and  I'll  let  the  eddication 
go."    Spencer  smiled  a  sudden  luminous  smile. 

White  strode  out  of  his  chair  and  to  within  a  foot  of  his 
visitor.  "I'll  give  you  just  two  minutes  to  pack  up  and 
git!"  He  breathed  heavily,  savagely;  with  an  air  of 
truculence  and  desire  for  blood. 

Spencer  looked  up  at  him,  his  teeth  showing  slightly 
between  his  lips.  "I'll  give  you  longer 'n  that,"  he  re- 
sponded softly.  "I'll  give  you  three  minutes  to  do  what 
I  say." 

With  trembling  hands,  White  drew  out  his  watch  and 
affected  to  watch  the  passage  of  the  two  minutes  he  had 
allowed  Spencer.  But  that  man  seemed  quite  at  ease, 
though  an  impartial  spectator  might  have  seen  what 
White  did  not,  —  that  every  muscle  w^as  tense.  White 
snapped  the  cover  of  the  watch  and  struck  out  his  arm  to 
carry  his  threat  into  execution.  Oddly  enough,  his  hand 
never  closed  on  the  smaller  man's  shoulder.  Instead,  he 
received  a  stinging  blow  under  the  eye,  which  was  instantly 
followed  by  a  harder  one  in  the  stomach.  Then,  with  a 
growl  like  a  hungry  dog,.  Spencer  threw  himself  at  him, 
calling  to  his  aid  all  the  knowledge  and  skill  achieved  in  a 
boisterous  and  successful  life  among  men  who  ow^ned  no 
law  but  the  one  of  physical  might.  White  fought  back 
viciously,  all  the  ugliness  of  his  nature  gaining  free  rein. 
They  struggled  to  kill. 


268         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

But  Spencer  seemed  made  of  iron;  his  fists  fell  like 
hammers.  White's  longer  reach  and  greater  muscle  were 
of  no  avail  after  the  first  three  minutes,  and  then  Spencer 
turned  his  tactics  not  to  beat  and  crush,  but  to  drive  the 
man  desperate,  to  break  his  spirit,  to  make  him  from  a 
man  into  a  cringing  cur.  It  was  a  thing  he  had  done  be- 
fore, in  dark  hallways  over  low  saloons,  behind  lumber 
piles  on  wharves,  in  a  tossing  boat,  in  dark  forecastles. 
As  he  felt  White's  muscles  grow  weak  beneath  his  blows, 
he  suddenly  felt  the  exhilaration  of  "the  man-breaker, 
whose  art  is  the  art  of  the  bronco  buster  of  the  plains,  of 
the  animal  tamer,  of  the  harsh  and  unbending  masters  of 
the  sea.  He  drove  his  meagre  fists  into  the  writhing  man's 
face  with  steady  and  persistent  jabs  that  brought  him  to 
his  knees.  He  flung  his  whole  arm  in  savage  strength 
against  the  sounding  and  heaving  chest.  Now  and  again 
he  spoke,  in  low,  tense  tones,  repeating  over  and  over: 
"Take  it  for  the  widder!  Take  it  for  the  poor  gell  you 
lied  to!" 

Time  and  time  again  White  struggled  to  his  feet,  reach- 
ing out  his  furious  arms  to  clinch  this  fiend,  and  each  time 
he  was  driven  to  his  knees  to  clutch  at  the  rough  floor, 
filling  his  fingers  with  splinters.  And  Spencer's  voice  kept 
on,  beating  in  upon  his  terrified  ear  this  chorus  of  hatred, 
of  contempt,  of  profound  and  vengeful  purpose. 

Without  the  cabin  the  gale  roared,  its  steady  and  trem- 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         269 

ulous  note  shot  through  with  the  sharp  artillery  of  crash- 
ing trees,  of  rending  roots  and  cracking  branches.  The 
rain  beat  on  the  roof  in  roaring  cataracts,  knocked  at  the 
window  with  a  hundred  hard  knuckles,  drove  down  the 
stove-pipe  in  hissing  streams.  Within,  Spencer  beat  down 
his  enemy  with  furious  blows,  exerting  his  strength  to 
reach  the  life  struggling  in  him,  to  conquer  him,  to  drive 
out  the  evil  and  malign  spirit  that  had  actuated  him. 
White  fought  back  feebly,  his  eyes  glaring,  the  terror  of 
death  written  on  his  face. 

Suddenly  the  floor  of  the  cabin  heaved  and  sank.  With 
a  vast  clatter  of  pans  and  dishes,  the  thin  wall  gave  in, 
cracking  and  splintering.  And  the  long-drawn,  screeching 
bellow  of  a  huge  tree  yielding  to  the  gale  filled  the  room 
with  a  fresh  and  awful  sound.  White,  biting  savagely  at 
the  hand  at  his  throat,  struggled  to  his  feet,  yelled,  and 
tumbled  on  his  face.  Bending  over  him,  Spencer  saw  a 
huge,  ponderous  tree-trunk  sink  with  infinite  slowness  and 
might  through  the  roof  and  into  the  wrecked  cabin.  He 
stared  at  it  and  watched  its  slow  descent  with  bright, 
keen  eyes.  When  it  came  to  rest,  spanning  the  crumbled 
floor  like  a  monstrous  fallen  column,  he  dragged  White 
farther  away  from  its  overhanging  bulk  and  stared  at 
him.     He  wondered  if  he  were  dead. 

Fifteen  minutes  later  White  sat  shaking  in  a  chair, 


270         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

licking  his  lips  with  a  dry  tongue.  His  furtive  eyes  and 
trembling  frame  showed  Spencer  that  his  work  was  done. 
Only  remained  this  ignoble  and  worthless  shell,  quivering 
when  he  raised  his  fiery  eyes  upon  it,  clutching  at  the  chair 
with  raw  fingers,  now  and  then  glancing  in  pure  terror  at 
the  tree  that  had  buried  stove  and  bed  and  table  beneath 
its  mass.  The  tempest  that  roared  through  the  broken 
and  leaning  walls  went  over  them,  bearing  sounds  of  de- 
struction and  death.  Spencer  reaUzed  that  it  was  time  to 
quit  the  ruined  cabin  if  he  were  to  save  the  fruits  of  his 
victory.  He  spoke  sharply,  his  tones  shrilling  above  the 
noise  of  the  storm.    "Come!    Get  out  of  this!'' 

But  White  had  lost  all  sense  of  any  peril  except  that 
which  faced  him.  He  gaped,  crying  for  his  life  with  short, 
staccato  cries,  like  a  dog.  Spencer  grasped  him  and  hurled 
him  out  of  the  chair,  through  the  broken  wall  and  into  the 
clearing,  littered  with  fallen  branches  crossed  here  and 
there  by  a  long  tree.  Then  he  proceeded  to  drive  him  into 
the  trail,  and  outward  where  the  open  held  hope  of  life 
and  safety. 

The  faint  daylight  that  penetrated  the  lower  forest 
barely  showed  them  their  way.  Before  they  had  gone  a 
hundred  yards,  a  fresh  windfall  blocked  the  trail,  and 
Spencer  was  forced  to  drag  his  companion  over  it  by  main 
strength.  Then  began  two  hours  of  wracking  toil.  It 
was  fast  growing  dark  when  they  emerged  at  last  on  the 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         271 

open  road  above  the  cliffs.  Here  Spencer  allowed  White 
to  rest  a  moment  while  he  pondered  their  next  move. 
"The  tide^s  out  now  in  Depot  Bay/*  he  thought.  "We'll 
get  across  that,  and  then  I'll  make  him  go  on  to  Otter 
Rock."    He  turned  savagely  to  say  "Come  on  I" 

They  stumbled  down  into  the  overhung  road  that  led 
into  the  bay,  though  White  seemed  almost  incapable  of 
motion.  Once  down  and  at  the  edge  of  the  huge  circular 
rocky  well,  Spencer  gasped.  It  echoed  with  the  thunder 
of  the  surf  outside  in  wild  peals  that  seemed  to  shake  the 
lofty  cliffs.  At  the  mouth  of  the  narrow  entrance,  tossing 
foam  roared  twenty  feet  high,  swept  away  before  the  wind 
and  left  a  tumbling  mass  of  water  to  break  in  over  the 
gravel  till  it  filled  the  whole  place  with  moiling  water, 
even  to  where  they  stood  in  the  road.  "My  God!" 
White  mumbled. 

Spencer  watched  the  water  gather,  flow  swiftly  back 
and  pile  up  in  a  wild  mass  in  the  entrance.  He  grasped  his 
companion's  arm  and  dragged  him  down  upon  the  wet 
stones.  "Now  run  for  your  life  to  the  other  side!"  he 
yelled.  "Run  before  the  water  comes  back!"  White, 
pitched  headlong  down,  caught  himself,  stumbled  and 
then  dashed  on  towards  the  opposite  wall,  with  Spencer 
panting  behind  him.  As  they  scrambled  up  the  slippery 
rocks  on  the  other  side,  the  water  boiled  in  after  them, 
clutched  at  their  legs  and  was  dashed  back  by  the  cliffs 


272         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

in  a  frantic  uproar.  Spencer  dragged  White  to  his  feet 
and  drove  him  on,  up  the  road. 

They  emerged  on  the  gale-swept  height  of  the  hill  into 
tne  full  fury  of  the  storm.  The  wind  had  drawn  round  to 
the  southwest,  and  the  spray  of  the  breaking  surges  below 
stung  their  cheeks  and  made  them  bend  their  heads.  But 
this  time  White  needed  no  urging.  Bareheaded,  coatless, 
his  bloody  arms  nake4  to  the  shoulders,  where  the  sleeves 
of  his  shirt  had  been  torn,  he  plunged  on,  driven  now  by 
a  fear  that  knew  no  other  terror  beside  itself.  Spencer 
coughed  behind  him,  swerving  his  course  whenever  White 
staggered  to  one  side  or  the  other,  in  order  that  he  might 
take  advantage  of  the  slender  shelter  of  his  tall  body.  It 
grew  dark,  and  the  wind  seemed  to  blow  with  greater 
violence  upon  them.  At  times  White  would  stop,  lean- 
ing against  the  blast  with  all  his  weight,  reaching  out 
desperate  arms  to  clutch  himself  forward.  And  then 
Spencer  would  fight  back  the  agony  that  threatened  to 
burst  from  his  chest  and  suffocate  him,  bend  his  head 
lower  and  struggle  on. 

At  last  they  were  in  a  darkness  so  complete  that  further 
progress  was  possible  only  by  degrees.  But  it  was  evident 
that  White  had  some  shelter  in  mind,  for  he  kept  the 
road  as  by  a  miracle  and  fought  on  and  on  frantically. 
Spencer  wondered  where  this  shelter  could  be.  But 
when  White  turned  up  the  hill,  and  the  wind  caught  them 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         273 

at  their  backs,  he  followed  gladly  till  they  stumbled  into 
a  low  fence.  They  crawled  through  it  and  a  moment  later 
flung  themselves  against  a  door  which  yielded  and  let 
them  plunge  into  a  dark  room. 

Gathering  his  fainting  strength,  Spencer  groped  round 
for  matches.  He  found  them  and  by  the  light  of  one  dis- 
covered a  lantern.  He  lit  it  and  hung  it  on  a  nail.  Then 
he  saw  that  they  were  in  a  cabin  of  some  size.  Bedding 
in  the  bunk,  dishes  on  the  table  and  wood  piled  beside 
the  stove  showed  that  it  was  inhabited,  though  the  owner 
was  not  at  home.  He  shufiled  to  the  stove  and  started  a 
fire.  Then  he  made  coffee  and  set  it  on  the  griddle.  White 
huddled  in  a  chair,  shivering. 

As  the  fire  crackled  up  and  the  room  grew  warmer, 
Spencer  muttered  to  himself:  "I  gotta  do  it  quick.  The 
doc  was  right  .  .  .  gotta  get  that  relinquishment  .  .  .  the 
eight  hundred.  ..."  He  staggered  about  like  a  drunken 
man.  Now  and  then  he  dimly  saw  the  huddled  figure  of 
his  enemy. 

When  the  coffee  was  ready,  he  poured  out  a  cup  of  it 
and  drank  it,  scalding  hot  as  it  was.  The  awful  pain  in 
his  chest  became  easier.  His  eyes  cleared.  He  stood  up- 
right. Then  he  walked  over  to  the  little  table  and  with 
lantern  in  hand  found  pen  and  ink  and  paper.  Laying 
these  out,  he  went  over  and  shook  White  by  the  shoulder. 
"Get  busy,"  he  said  hoarsely.     "Make  out  that  relin- 


274         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

quishment,  now."  He  pulled  a  damp  paper  from  an  inside 
pocket.  "I  got  the  proper  printed  form  right  here  and 
the  description  and  everything  written  in.    Get  busy." 

White  stared  up  fearfully. 

''I'll  give  ye  one  minute,"  Spencer  said  savagely. 
"Just  one  minute  to  Uve  if  you  don't."  He  shook  his 
fist  before  him. 

The  locator  got  to  his  feet  and  went  to  the  table. 
Spencer  shoved  the  lantern  over  till  its  dull  gleam  fell 
directly  on  the  paper.  When  White  glanced  up,  some- 
what restored  by  the  sight  of  a  familiar  legal  form,  he 
met  hot,  dangerous  eyes,  and  knew  by  that  strange  in- 
stinct of  animal  nature  that  this  was  death  if  he  failed  to 
do  what  he  was  commanded.    He  dipped  the  pen. 

As  he  wrote  in  his  name  and  the  date,  Spencer  stood 
over  him,  breathing  heavily.  Deep  in  his  heart  a  great 
pain  was  growing.  It  seemed  to  spread  and  increase  like 
a  creeping  fountain  of  molten  metal.  It  reached  into  his 
very  entrails  and  its  heat  scorched  his  throat.  Bright 
visions  shone  before  his  eyes,  and  White's  cowering  figure 
seemed  to  recede  into  the  recesses  of  the  world,  distinct 
though  dark  and  miniature.  He  gripped  himself  anew  and 
by  pure  force  of  his  will  drew  that  figure  back  to  him  till 
he  could  read  the  characters  being  written  with  that  soft, 
shaking  hand.  White  threw  down  the  pen.  "Does  that 
suit  you?"  he  snarled. 


As  he  wrote  in  his  name  and  the  date,  Spencer  stood  over  him, 
breathing  heavily  "  t^age  274 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         275 

"The  eight  hundred!'* 

There  was  a  silence  in  the  cabin.  White  got  up  furi- 
ously. But  Spencer's  fist  shot  out,  and  he  sank  down 
again,  weeping.  "I  haven't  got  it;  it's  in  the  cabin," 
he  sobbed. 

"Take  off  your  belt!" 

It  dropped  on  the  floor,  and  Spencer  picked  it  up  with 
a  swift  sweep  of  his  arm,  buckled  it  about  himself, 
picked  up  the  relinquishment  and  thrust  it  in  his  pocket. 
Then  he  walked  to  the  stove,  seized  the  coffee-pot  and 
poured  out  another  cup,  which  he  drank  at  a  gulp.  An 
instant  later  he  was  at  the  door.  As  it  swung  open  and 
the  wind  howled  in.  White  shouted.  But  the  door  closed 
again,  leaving  him  prisoner  with  fear  and  terror  of  storm 
and  darkness. 

Spencer  crawled  over  the  fence  and  stumbled  through 
the  murk  towards  the  road.  His  feet  found  it,  and  he 
turned  and  struggled  south.  "  I  must  n't  croak  before 
Hal  gets  this,"  he  thought  over  and  over  again.  Later  he 
whispered  huskily,  "I  ain't  no  quitter!"  and  leaned 
forward  into  the  teeth  of  the  wind.  Above  him  a  faint 
glow  showed  the  moon  through  thinning  clouds.  The 
storm  was  over. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WHEN  Spencer  had  gone,  Sally  went  back  into  the 
cabin  and  told  Hal  that  it  was  going  to  storm 
hard.  "  If  I  were  you  and  had  to  be  in  Portland  Wednes- 
day, I'd  start  right  out,"  she  said.  "If  you  don't,  you 
may  have  to  miss  your  train  in  Toledo  and  lose  your 
claim."  She  appealed  to  Flossetta.  "We  can  stay  here 
all  right,  can't  we?  And  Hal '11  lose  his  place  if  he  is  n't 
there  on  the  dot.  I  know  Lim  White's  ways.  He  won't 
wait  a  minute." 

Flossetta  agreed,  and  Hal  was  convinced,  against  his 
will,  that  he  must  go  that  day.  So  immediately  after 
luncheon  he  departed,  pack  on  back,  for  the  Agency. 
When  he  was  gone,  Sally  carried  in  several  armsful  of 
wood,  drew  water  and  prepared  for  the  storm.  Her 
activity  lasted  till  darkness  came.  Then  she  got  supper 
and  washed  the  dishes,  while  Flossetta  paced  the  floor, 
stared  out  the  window  or  investigated  shyly  the  mysteries 
of  her  son's  wardrobe. 

"I'd  like  to  have  Sim  and  Hal  here,"  she  remarked, 
when  they  were  seated  by  the  lamp.  "It  seems  lone- 
some." , 


THE  LAND   CLAIMERS         277 

Sally  nodded. 

"  I  suppose  Hal 's  new  claim  will  be  lonely,  too.  I  wish 
it  was  closer  to  this  one.  Poor  boy!  I  wonder  if  Sim 
has  got  to  Newport  yet?  " 

"I  don^t  know,"  Sally  answered  dully.  "But  they're 
both  all  right." 

"Of  course,"  Flossetta  assented,  with  a  smile.  "Sim 
is  all  right  anywhere.  Why,  when  I  knew  him,  he  'd  rather 
fight  than  eat.  I  had  an  awful  time  to  keep  him  from 
going  and  fighting  with  my  husband  when  —  when  he 
left  me." 

It  was  the  first  reference  Flossetta  had  made  to  her 
husband,  and  Sally  looked  up  sympathetically.  "That 
must  have  been  hard." 

Flossetta  looked  suddenly  old.  "Yes,"  she  said  wearily. 
"  But  I  was  n't  in  his  class,  after  all.  And  his  people 
thought  I  was  a  poor  wife." 

No  more  was  said  till  bedtime,  when  Sally  kissed  the 
older  woman  and  remarked:  "My  sakes!  If  you  cry 
any  more,  I'll  tell  Spencer  and  Hal.  It  ain't  good  for 
you!" 

Flossetta's  eyes  glowed.  "  Do  you  know  I  hate  women 
like  that  Miss  Fletcher?" 

"She's  rather  high  and  mighty,"  Sally  responded 
quietly. 

"  If  Hal  should  fall  in  love  with  her  and  marry  her,  I  *d 


278         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

die,"  the  older  woman  went  on  quickly.  "She'd  despise 
me!" 

Later  she  awoke  and  called  over  to  Sally,  "Do  you 
think  Hal  likes  Miss  Fletcher?" 

There  was  no  answer. 

The  next  day  showed  that  Flossetta's  apparent  recov- 
ery of  her  health  was  due  solely  to  happiness.  Deprived, 
even  for  a  day,  of  her  son's  company,  she  languished. 
Her  cheeks  looked  thin  and  pale,  dark  circles  came  under 
her  eyes  and  she  stepped  feebly.  Once  Sally  saw  her  go 
outside  and  cough  miserably,  her  skirt  blowing  in  the 
gale  which  now  made  the  timber  resound. 

But  the  full  force  of  the  storm  seemed  to  pass  over  the 
inner  forest,  and  Sally  watched  its  increase  with  more 
equanimity  than  usual.  There  was  the  steady  roar  over- 
head, the  echo  of  a  falling  tree  at  long  intervals,  but  in  the 
recess  where  Spencer's  cabin  was  built,  there  was  compara- 
tive peace.  So  they  stayed  indoors  all  that  day.  When 
night  came  and  the  wind  hauled  into  another  quarter, 
the  timber  around  them  suddenly  woke  up.  Midnight 
found  them  clasped  in  each  other's  arms,  crying.  And  as 
they  lay  there  trembling  and  sobbing,  Flossetta  opened 
her  heart  to  the  girl  in  little  snatches  of  confession,  of 
prayer,  of  hope  and  motherly  ambition.  And  Sally 
knew  that  here  was  a  worse  agony  than  physical  terror 
—  the  agony  of  a  woman  with  a  broken  heart. 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         279 

In  the  morning  neither  of  them  referred  to  the  night 
that  was  past,  but  busied  themselves  about  the  Uttle 
cabin  or  in  the  clearing  in  the  watery  sunshine.  It  was 
while  Flossetta  was  out  of  doors  that  Sally,  mixing  biscuit, 
heard  her  call  out.  She  ran  to  see  what  the  matter  was. 
"Look  here!  look  here!"  Flossetta  whispered.  "Who  is 
that?" 

A  strange  figure  was  stumbling  up  from  the  creek 
bottom,  a  figure  covered  with  mud,  disheveled,  hat- 
less,  waving  meagre  arms,  silently  presenting  the 
spectacle  of  a  decrepit  and  dying  scarecrow.  The 
women  stared  at  it,  fearfully.  But  Flossetta's  eyes 
suddenly  saw.  She  started  to  run  forward,  crying, 
"Sim!  Sim!" 

He  staggered  up  the  trail,  with  great  exertions,  with 
incredible  and  miraculous  contortions,  clutching  one  lean 
arm  to  his  breast,  waving  the  other  in  amazing  circles, 
as  though  giving  emphasis  to  some  mortal  and  astounding 
joke.  He  did  not  see  Flossetta,  who  stood  with  hands 
outheld  to  touch  him,  to  help  him.  Instead  he  drove  him- 
self on,  muttering  to  himself,  till  he  tumbled  at  Sally*s 
feet.  She  dropped  to  her  knees  and  sobbed  over  him. 
"What  is  it?    What  is  it?" 

"The  doc  .  .  .  doc  was  quite  c'rect  .  .  .  Here!"  his 
voice  suddenly  burst  out  in  a  great  note  of  triumph.  His 
hand  thrust  out  to  her  a  paper,  dived  to  his  waist  and 


280         THE  LAND   CLAIMERS 

tore  Lim  White's  belt  off.  As  it  ripped,  there  was  the 
chink  of  gold,  and  bright  coins  rolled  away. 

They  bore  him  into  the  cabin  and  put  him  to  bed  with 
tender  cries  and  sobs.  He  lay  unconscious  and  silent 
under  their  ministrations,  breathing  fast.  They  rubbed 
his  limbs,  bathed  him,  forced  hot  coffee  between  his  purple 
lips,  besought  him  to  speak.  But  he  lay  before  them 
speechless,  with  sightless  eyes,  only  his  painful  and  rasp- 
ing breath  to  show  that  he  lived. 

Suddenly  he  awoke  and  sat  up.  "Take  that  relinquish- 
ment to  Hal  —  right  off  .  .  .  Flossetta,  cheer  up  ...  I 
ain't  no  quitter!"  He  fell  back  to  resume  his  painful 
breathing,  his  glassy  stare  at  the  rafters. 

They  found  the  paper,  and  Sally  instantly  understood 
its  purport.  But  how  to  get  it  to  Hal?  Even  if  she  got  it 
to  the  Agency  that  night,  it  would  not  arrive  in  Portland 
till  Wednesday  evening  —  too  late  to  assure  Hal's  victory. 
There  was  but  one  hope:  it  must  be  taken  to  Newport 
that  night.  She  turned  to  Flossetta  and  explained  it  to 
her.  "I've  got  to  go,"  she  said.  "I'll  get  a  doctor,  too." 
Flossetta  nodded,  with  a  glance  at  the  sick  man. 

"It's  for  Hal's  sake,"  Sally  went  on.  "Spencer  did  his 
part.    Now  we  must  n't  let  it  all  be  for  nothing." 

A  moment  later  she  was  booted,  pack-sack  on  her  back. 
"I'm  off,"  she  said  briefly.  "I'll  bring  the  doctor  with 
me."    She  slipped  to  the  door,  looked  bashfully  over  her 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         281 

shoulder  and  then  stepped  to  Spencer's  side  and  stooped 
over.  As  she  kissed  him  he  stirred,  smiling  in  his  world 
of  dreams.  His  lips  moved,  and  they  heard  the  whisper 
"Flossetta!" 

When  Sally  had  gone,  Flossetta  set  herself  to  get  a 
meal  and  to  fix  some  broth  for  her  patient.  She  kept  up 
the  fire  and  brought  in  water,  with  a  certain  weary  pleasure 
in  it.  Now  and  then  she  seated  herself  by  Spencer's  side 
and  smoothed  his  forehead  or  fed  him  soup  from  a  tea- 
spoon. At  another  time  she  stared  at  the  little  pile  of 
gold  on  the  table  and  wondered  how  he  had  obtained  it, 
how  he  had  got  that  paper  that  Sally  said  was  so  precious 
to  her  son.  She  remembered  Spencer's  old  ways  —  ways 
that  he  had  never  spoken  to  her  about,  but  which  her 
husband  had  mentioned  with  scorn.  He  had  called  him 
a  "bruiser,"  a  "pug,"  a  "pirate."  She  resolved  to  inspect 
Spencer's  clothes.  Half  an  hour  later  she  was  guiltily 
burning  his  shirt  in  the  stove,  trying  to  obliterate  a  tell- 
tale stain  of  blood  on  the  sleeve.  Then  she  put  her  face 
in  her  hands  and  sobbed.  How  he  had  loved  her!  how 
faithful  he  had  been !  And  now  —  she  stared  at  him  — 
he  had  killed  some  one  that  her  boy  might  have  the  best. 
Life  was  a  dreadful  thing. 

At  dark  he  seemed  to  rouse  slightly,  and  she  bent  over 
him.  He  drew  down  his  brows  in  an  effort  to  see  her. 
"It's  Flossetta,"  she  told  him. 


282         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

"Ah!"  he  sighed.    "  Did  you  get  the  paper?  " 

"Sally's  gone  to  Newport  with  it/'  she  assured  him. 
"She'll  send  it  right  up  to  him  so  he'll  get  it  in  time. 
Sim!" 

His  dulled  ear  caught  the  anxiety  in  her  tone.  He 
roused  himself  again.    "  What? "  he  called  out,  very  loudly. 

"Did  you  —  did  you  kill  anybody?" 

His  groping  hand  found  hers.  "No,"  he  said,  faintly. 
"But  I  done  it!    I  ain't  no  quitter,  Flossetta!" 

She  bent  over  and  kissed  him,  timidly.  And  bearing 
that  kiss  on  his  lips  he  drifted  away  into  the  world  of 
dreams  again. 

It  was  early  in  the  morning  when  Sally  preceded  the 
doctor  down  the  trail  to  Spencer's  cabin.  That  old  and 
hard-working  man  sat  his  pony  with  an  ease  that  showed 
long  custom.  As  the  animal  splashed  through  the  creek 
bottom  and  up  into  the  clearing,  the  doctor  slipped  off 
and  dropped  the  reins  over  the  pony's  head.  Then  he 
hurried  up  to  the  cabin. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  came  out  and  looked  at  Sally. 
His  grave  and  kindly  glance  rested  on  her  with  sympathy, 
with  a  sort  of  mild  and  beneficent  affection.  "He's 
dying,"  he  said.    "The  matter  is  with  his  heart." 

She  gazed  at  him,  troubled.    "How  long?" 

He  shook  his  head.     "I  don't  know.     Soon."     He 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         283 

whistled  to  his  horse.  "  I  need  n't  come  back.  Give  him 
the  medicine,  if  he  needs  it."  And  without  another  word 
he  started  back  the  twenty  miles  to  Newport,  his  straight 
and  military  figure  giving  the  impression  of  diligence, 
authority,  austere  sense  of  duty. 

Spencer  was  conscious  when  she  entered,  and  his  dark 
eyes  were  following  Flossetta  about.  Now  and  then  he 
smoothed  the  blanket  down  over  his  chest,  as  though  to 
soothe  something  asleep  beneath  it.  "I  see  you're  back," 
he  said  huskily  to  Sally. 

"My  sakes!"  she  replied  lightly.  "I  see  you  are,  too. 
Lim  White  must  have  got  his!" 

A  faint,  almost  imperceptible  smile  crossed  his  face. 
"  Easy,  like  takin'  candy  from  a  kid  .  .  .  scared  .  .  .  the 
money  is  Flossetta's." 

As  they  prepared  dinner,  his  eyes  grew  wistful.  "I 
ain't  never  seen  you  lookin'  better,  Miss  Flossetta,"  he 
whispered.    "You  look  like  a  girl,  I  declare!" 

She  went  over  to  him.  "  I  have  n't  thanked  you,  Sim, 
yet.  I  don't  know  what  I'd  done  without  you,  Sim. 
You've  always  stayed  by  me  and  helped  me  and  now  —  " 

"Now  you've  got  Hal,"  he  answered,  closing  his  eyes. 
"  I  always  loved  you,  Flossetta.  But  I  was  n't  good  enough 
for  you.  You  was  right.  But  I  was  n't  goin'  to  quit.  I 
never  was  a  quitter,  Flossetta." 

She  leaned  over  him,  sobbing  bitterly. 


284         THELANDCLAIMERS 

"No,  I^d  stayed  right  here  with  it,  if  Hal  had  n*t  come. 
But  you  got  Hal  now.  'Nd  ye  don*t  need  me.  'Nd"  — 
he  opened  his  dark  eyes  slowly,  fixing  them  on  her  with 
affection  —  " 'nd  I  guess  I'll  quit.'* 

And  his  long  look  of  love  and  admiration  and  happiness 
in  service  to  her  faded  into  the  longer,  eternal  gaze  that 
sees  the  infinite. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THEY  buried  him  on  the  slope  of  his  Uttle  clearing, 
and  the  clergyman  read  the  service  beneath  the 
dark  firs  while  Hal  stood  beside  his  mother  and  Sally  wept, 
on  her  knees  beside  the  cold  grave.  And  when  the  scout 
and  McCarthy  had  heaped  up  the  earth  over  him  and  the 
minister  had  departed  on  his  horse  and  the  little  group 
of  homesteaders  had  scattered  up  the  trail,  Sally  still 
remained,  in  sorrow  and  alone.  It  was  dark  when  she 
came  in.  Hal  was  packing  up  and  glanced  at  her  to  say: 
"I'm  going  over  to  my  claim  to  build  me  the  cabin. 
Will  you  stay  with  mother  till  then?" 

Sally  nodded  dully.  In  the  bunk  Flossetta  was  lying, 
huddled  under  a  blanket,  shivering  and  miserable.  She 
reached  out  her  hand,  and  Sally  went  over  and  clasped 
it.  So  they  sat,  silently,  while  Hal  packed  his  few  belong- 
ings and  tried  to  be  cheerful.  By  the  lamphght  he  went 
through  Spencer's  papers,  sorting  them  over.  Suddenly 
he  stopped  and  leaned  back  in  his  seat  to  read  one  of  them 
more  carefully.  When  he  had  done  so,  he  broke  the  si- 
lence. "  Sim  did  n't  leave  much,  but  what  he  had  he 
left  to  you,  Sally,  all  except  the  money  in  the  belt." 


^86        THE    LANDCLAIMERS 

"Is  that  his  will?"  she  demanded. 

He  nodded.  "I  suppose  you  might  call  it  that.  It's 
a  relinquishment  to  you  of  this  claim.  I  don't  know 
whether  it's  any  good  or  not.    Here  it  is." 

She  took  it  and  stared  at  it.  In  cramped  and  difficult 
script  it  stated  that  Sim  Spencer  relinquished  to  the 
Government  of  the  United  States  all  right,  claim  and 
purpose  to  the  title  of  the  east  one-half  and  the  N.  E.  J^ 
of  N.  E.  M  and  N.  E.  M  of  the  N.  W.  %  of  section  7 
of  township  9  north  and  13  west  of  the  Williamette 
Meridian.  Pinned  to  this  paper  was  a  short  note.  She 
read  it  slowly: 

Dear  Sally,  —  You  always  said  this  claim  was  n't  worth 
a  cent.  But  its  all  I  got  to  give,  and  take  it.  Maybe  you 
can  locate  somebody  on  it  and  get  a  couple  of  hundred  out 
of  it.  Its  worth  that  though  they  say  hemlok  is  n't  any  good, 
there  is  six  million  hemlok  on  it  and  that  will  make  somebody 
want  it.  Be  a  good  girl  and  never  marry  Lim  White,  he 
aint  man  enough. 

S.  Spencer. 

She  let  the  paper  fall  and  went  over  and  cried  on  Flos- 
setta's  breast. 

"I  used  to  joke  him  about  this  claim  and  because 
he  couldn't  cook!"  she  said  heartbrokenly.  "And  now 
I  'm  going  to  keep  it  and  never,  never  sell  it  just  because 
I  did  that." 

"I  think  it's  worth  keeping,"  Hal  said  slowly.     "I 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         287 

heard  a  man  in  Portland  say  that  hemlock  would  be  as 
valuable  as  fir  in  five  years.  K  that's  so,  you've  got  a 
few  thousands  here  yet,  Sally." 

Outside  the  moon  rose  and  threw  down  into  the  dark 
clearing  a  slender  ray  of  cold  light.  The  ground  seemed 
to  stir  beneath  the  great  trees,  to  be  waking  into  life  at 
the  call  of  spring.  The  song  of  the  creek  was  clear  and 
musical.  Now  and  again  a  frog  croaked  from  his  pool, 
and  overhead,  glistening  against  the  moon,  the  pale  gleam 
of  a  flock  of  wild  geese  shone  transiently  as  they  flew 
steadily  to  the  north. 

Hal  sat  in  the  open  door  of  the  cabin  and  thought  of 
the  future,  while  the  women  still  saw  in  their  sleep  the 
dark  mound  that  hid  loyalty,  generosity  and  gallant 
spirit  —  now  of  the  past. 

Two  months  later  Hal  Marini  found  the  cabin  on  what 
was  now  Sally  McCarthy's  claim  empty.  In  the  garden 
before  the  door  a  few  yellow  daffodils  held  up  their  gentle 
heads.  Sweet  peas  crept  up  a  few  fines  of  string  under 
the  window.  Down  on  the  slope,  Sim  Spencer's  grave  was 
bright  with  mignonette  and  violets.  Gazing  at  these,  Hal 
pondered,  wondering  where  Sally  could  be.  The  mild 
airs  of  summer,  passing  over  the  grim  forest,  sent  down 
a  faint  breath  of  warmth  and  life.  He  had  just  tramped 
over  from  Depot  Bay,  and  he  peered  round,  hardly  be- 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

lieving  that  she  was  not  here,  when  he  had  come  so  far 
to  see  her. 

A  half-hour  brought  no  Sally,  and  he  gloomily  picked 
up  his  pack-sack  and  started  on  to  her  father's  cabin, 
thinking  she  might  be  there.  But  a  thought  struck  him, 
and  instead  he  hastened  along  the  trail  till  he  came  to  a 
vague  track  that  skirted  the  roots  of  a  large  spruce  on  the 
very  shoulder  of  the  ridge.  Dropping  easily  down  this, 
he  pushed  his  way  through  the  underbrush  for  half  a  mile 
till  he  came  out  into  a  small  clearing.  In  the  shadow  of 
the  bushes  he  paused  and  examined  the  little  cabin. 
From  the  pipe  no  smoke  issued,  but  he  discerned  that  the 
door  was  open.  He  stepped  out  and  went  up  the  path  to 
the  porch. 

As  he  set  foot  on  it,  Sally  came  to  the  door.  She  looked 
at  him  curiously.    "How  did  you  know  I  was  here?" 

He  took  off  his  cap  and  slung  his  pack  from  his  shoul- 
ders. "I  don't  care  how  I  knew,"  he  said  abruptly.  "But 
I  knew  you  were  here." 

"I  wish  you  hadn't  come,"  she  said  coldly.  "I  like 
to  have  one  place  all  my  own." 

"Have  n't  you  got  the  Old  Man  Peterson  place  now?'* 

"But  you  can  find  me  there,"  she  replied. 

He  seemed  much  put  out  and  sat  down  heavily  on  the 
bench  by  the  door.  "You  don't  seem  to  like  me  at  all," 
he  complained.    "What  have  I  done?" 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS         289 

She  shook  her  head.     "Nothing." 

"  Why  don't  you  like  me?  "  he  insisted. 

She  turned  her  profile  to  him,  gazing  out  into  the  dark 
and  secret  timber.  "I  do  like  you,"  she  murmured. 
"Only  I  want  to  be  happy!" 

His  face  flushed.  Her  sudden  appeal  seemed  to  stop 
the  warm  and  impetuous  words  on  his  lips.  He  man- 
aged to  mutter,  "Don't  you  think  I  could  make  you 
happy?" 

Her  breath  came  more  quickly  but  she  said  nothing. 
He  came  close  to  her  and  she  saw  the  fullness  of  his 
throat,  the  arterial  flush  on  his  temples.  "I  love  you, 
Sally,"  he  said.  "I  love  you  and  —  and  —  won't  you 
marry  me?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "  You  think  —  you  think  —  I  'm 
only  a  settler,  Hal." 

"What  does  that  mean?"  he  demanded. 

"  It  means  that  when  you  marry  you  must  marry  some 
bright,  well-dressed  girl  from  Outside,  somebody  who  will 
make  you  proud  and  please  your  mother.  Your  mother 
is  very  proud  of  you." 

He  stared  at  her  blankly.  Then  the  full  tide  of  crimson 
flowed  over  his  face.  He  was  like  a  man  suddenly  see- 
ing his  astdhishing  reflection  in  a  pool:  he  had  thought 
himself  a  man,  had  carried  himself  aloof,  surveyed  the 
world  superiorly,  like  a  master  of  destiny.  And,  after 
all,  he  was  merely  a  creature.     His  mother  had  edu- 


290         THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 

cated  him.  Sim  Spencer  had  given  him  his  start.  He 
had  done  nothing  for  himself.  He  stood  before  the  allur- 
ing and  warm  loveliness  of  this  woman  without  a  plea, 
without  a  single  claim  on  her  regard,  except  through 
others.  He  searched  his  soul  for  something  to  say  that 
would  give  him  at  least  foothold  against  her  coldness. 

The  moments  passed  like  a  series  of  minute  and  per- 
fect periods  of  existence,  as  though  they  were  compact 
and  concentrated  epochs.  He  saw  his  boyhood,  his  col- 
lege days,  his  trip  from  Canada  to  the  Siletz,  his  ex- 
periences with  Spencer,  his  own  grotesque  actions,  his 
constant  association  with  Sally,  his  petulant  and  child- 
ish adherence  to  prejudices  that,  when  all  was  said  and 
done,  had  not  entered  into  his  real  life.  And  when 
these  minutes  were  elapsed,  like  pages  turned  in  a  book, 
he  came  to  the  last  chapter,  that  small  point  in  eternity 
which  marked  the  present.  He  read  its  contents  and 
summed  it  up  in  a  sentence,  a  single  expression  of  what 
life  meant  to  him  now  and  was  to  mean  forever.  "Sally! 
Sally!     I  love  you!" 

She  answered  that  cry  in  silence,  looking  at  him  with 
a  strange  and  inscrutable  gaze,  mingled  of  fear  and 
hope  and  memory.  She  seemed  to  see  past  him  into 
the  future;  her  eyes  were  the  eyes  of  the  girl  bred  in 
the  timber,  used  to  the  sunlessness  and  the  chill  of  the 
dark  forest.  "  I  know  —  I  am  sure  that  —  that  some- 
time —  you  will  —  " 


THE   LAND   CLAIMERS         291 

Her  pause  brought  him  closer,  with  strong  hands  held 
out  to  hers.  And  the  profound  and  sorrowful  wisdom 
in  her  eyes  faded  into  astounding  gentleness  and  then 
her  look  held  his  for  an  instant. 

"  I  love  you ! "  he  repeated.    "  It 's  all  I  can  say,  Sally." 

She  gave  him  a  flashing  and  intoxicating  glance,  a 
gentle  gesture  of  the  hand  and  slipped  silently  back  into 
the  house  from  his  outstretched  arms. 

She  came  out  again  immediately.  Without  a  word 
she  locked  the  door  and  withdrew  the  key.  He  reached 
for  it  but  she  shook  her  head,  tossing  the  key  into  the 
brush.  For  the  moment  he  did  not  comprehend  her. 
She  met  his  eyes.  "I  won*t  need  it  any  more.  It  was 
my  play  home." 

Then  he  understood. 

As  her  arms  went  round  his  neck  he  heard  her  whis- 
per, "Oh,  Hal!  Don't  ever,  ever  make  me  have^to  be 
happy  all  by  myself  again!" 

They  left  the  little  cabin,  with  its  miniature  garden  and 
its  scanty  clearing,  without  looking  back.  The  forest 
swallowed  it  up  forever  from  the  sight  of  them,  and  with 
it  Sally's  girlhood  and  loneliness  and  dim  hopes  and  un- 
happy hours;  for  she  had  proved  up  on  her  claim  to  life 
and  contentment  and  love. 

THE    END 


r  /<o 


IB  40184 


M143886 
?6/ 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


